


Play for keeps

by Circus_ink_and_determination



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bendy and "Bendy" are diferents characters, Bendy and the gang have human form, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Boris and Alice too, Boris is mute, Chapters wouldn't be like in the game, Character Death, Henry and Linda are siblings in this history, Henry is a young adult, Henry was Joey's young apprentice, How Do I Tag, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Thirty years have not passed, same with Alice angel and the false Alice Angel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Circus_ink_and_determination/pseuds/Circus_ink_and_determination
Summary: It was not until long after his parents’ funeral, that Henry received a letter addressed to him from his old "boss" Joey Drew. Reluctantly, Henry decides to accept the invitation to the old animation studio, hoping to return and get reconciled with his old friend to help him deal with the loss of his parents and recover some happy memories of his past. He never imagines that this could  be his last trip and that two figures from his past want to settle some issues with him…





	1. Long ride to back

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! After spending a lot of time debating with myself whether or not to upload this fic, I finally decided that yes, because since I have not seen many stories of Bendy x Henry and I wanted to make one. I also do it to improve my English (it's not my native language) and I want to see how far the story will go and I decided to post it here. To make some clarifications, in this story Henry and Joey were not friends of childhood or anything of that style, Henry went to work in the studio because he had to do the practices there of his studies and Drew was the boss and the person in charge of supervising him and his work, and yes, Henry is still the original creator of Bendy and the other toons. I'm a bit nervous because it's the first time that I write a story about M / M and I hope to do well, there may be changes in the plot although I do not think they can be too big. I want to do at least one chapter per week, but there may be more depending on my motivation and free time. Please give me your opinion.  
> I hope you like it and have a good day / afternoon or night!

He was sitting on the uncomfortable wooden chair, his feet brushing the floor from time to time while everything around him was silent. It was late, the shift had ended hours ago and the other workers had gone home to enjoy some time alone or with their family. Henry for hours he should be at home, resting or sleeping. Still, he was still working with a pen and a set of blank papers on his desk. Joey had promised to go over at any time to see his work with the designs of the characters and Henry would not let him break his promise. Even if his vision blurred from time to time and his pupils became heavier with every minute that passed, his stubbornness and determination were stronger to keep him awake. Everyone in the studio knew how dedicated the student was to his work, almost as much as Joey Drew ... It was difficult to know if both men shared more similarities, but Henry had always tried to be like his boss. The two artists shared the same look full of illusions and dreams and although Joey could be very critical in judging the work of the youngest and teach him everything necessary to handle the ink when doing his work of cartoons for the deadlines weekly. The younger artist needed a little more experience to thank him for these gestures that in his eyes were worthy of admiration. At the moment he should thank him for so many things, that in those times they seemed like usual things but in the future they would be valuable and important things. His sleepiness disappeared for a moment as he heard steps known as something uncoordinated by the wooden planks of the corridor full of posters of the episodes of the cartoons of the company, with a shout of joy the jump of the uncomfortable wooden seat creaking almost throwing it to the ground. The steps became stronger in the corridor and the following seconds a well-known figure appeared on the corner that gave entrance to the room. Joey Drew, his boss and teacher smelled of ink and wood. He smelled of dreams, love and a sure hope for the younger boy.

"Ladies and gentlemen, last stop of today's journey." A rough voice belonging to a cheerful at all took him out of his thoughts. The warm feeling had left his chest; he was sitting again in the scruffy seat at the back of the bus. Noisy music resounded throughout the vehicle, were songs that seemed of the last century and it was almost impossible to understand the lyrics due to the poor quality of the acoustics of the radio. Henry could not even know what style of music he was listening to at that moment. The atmosphere was not the best, the poor condition of the seats of that bus that threatened to break at any time and the rancid smelling smell of cigarettes in the air were not the best combination. Henry's frown creased, he really hated that smell and travelled in a battered vehicle like that. It was a miracle that he had arrived alive until the last stop. "Passengers, please get off."

There was no one else there, only the driver and the artist. The man stretched out in his seat with a sigh of relief as he got up and picked up his belongings: a long coat of brown wool and an old postman's backpack that in the past would have had better times. He had thought about taking more things, but this was just a courtesy visit and he did not plan to stay more than a couple of days in that city. After a few moments he finally collected all his few belongings and headed for the exit door. With a low "Thank you" he went through the metal door and finally left the uncomfortable interior of the bus that certainly would not pass a sanitation test. The air outside despite being the purest was really refreshing, just what your lungs needed. For a second he stood in the place breathing from the inside out, enjoying how good it was. After a couple of minutes and after the battered vehicle disappeared from view, the artist focused on the building that stretched before him like an imposing castle.

Henry didn’t know what to expect. He knew that in the past the study had not been a gigantic and imposing glass skyscraper like the one where he was currently working on. Currently, he didn’t remember that the studio was so small, short and located on the outskirts of the city with similar abandoned buildings around it. What he did not expect was that everything was so abandoned and ruinous what had once been the workplace of his dreams. Most of the windows were broken and the few intact were covered by cobwebs so thick that it was impossible to see the interior, many of them were covered with rotten-looking wooden tables or planks. The walls were dirty, chipped and in a miraculous way they did not have any graffiti and they supported themselves as they could. He was unable to see the state of the roof, but it was a miracle that it had not yet collapsed. It did not look like having a stable and resistant structure. This was what the studio had become? His memory remembered him as a dream place. Had Henry taken the wrong bus and now he was in the middle of nowhere? His eyes travelled around looking for some familiar sign, a sign, a person ... But this time the man had less luck and fate had less mercy with him. The whole area was filled with buildings that looked similar to the studio, not like the beautiful buildings of his memories.

With a short sigh, he settled himself as best as he could the huge long wool coat, at least he should give it a try and get closer to look better at the building. A deteriorated poster with letters and a cramped rusty mailbox left no doubt where it was - I was really at Joey Drew Studios. Small needles stuck in the deepest part of the artist's heart. This was the place, HIS place even though it had lost its fantastic glare. He regrets so much for not doing something to help keep SillyVision's company afloat and the building that in his memories had been an important part of his life, even when Drew had taken it all away. Now he was standing there with nothing but a long woollen coat and an old postman's backpack. Well, he did not intend to stand there and let the sadness begin to consume him, he could not surrender now. Coming here had been his biggest decision and objective in a long time so at least he could enter and check the interior and look for his old boss. With that mentality he clenched his fists and pushed the door that was surrounded by rusted and shattered chains that had yielded to bad conditions and temporary wetness, the wooden gate opened with a loud crack.

The interior and condition of the study really caught him by surprise. Despite the fact that the windows were almost all blocked, they still allowed the rays of light from outside to make the corridor illuminated with a luminous light where dust motes could be seen floating instead of the dark place that he expected. At least he would not have to use the lighter and it was lucky that he did not suffer from asthma since most people would not have a place like that, where he practically could taste the dust of the air. Was the invitation really current and Joey was waiting for him there? That reassured Henry a little, though a small pessimistic part of him was reluctant to think that way.

"Hello, Joey, it's me, Henry ..." He cursed under his breath for not having sounded as confident as he had planned. In his place he had once again sounded like the shy boy he had been in the past, one shy and obedient. The artist frowned, he could do better "Are you here Joey? Or are you in your office?" Well, that was not entirely better but it was better than the previous one. All that situation reminded him too much of the movies, series and horror stories with a stereotype of a character that, for whatever reason, went into a ramshackle place only because an old acquaintance sent him a letter to quote him ... Ignoring the meaning common...  
Henry brushed the hair out of his eyes to ward off those thoughts. This was the real world, not a story of fiction with elements of horror. Even so, he looked around to make sure nothing strange was waiting for him at the corners. The plan was simple: look around and if nobody was there to give him information, Henry would leave the place quicker. A good and simple plan.

A smile settled on his face as he observed all the posters of the human toons on the wall. Some with the unfortunate adventures of Bendy, others showed some shorts of Boris the human wolf and his classic clarinet with him and even a poster of Alice Angel survived as it could without falling off the wall. When was the last time the artist had seen so much material from the cartoons together? Only in Henry's house was there material from them. Even if it was childish he still had a plush of each of the characters, several sketches and drawings and even an old shirt with the face of the studio’s mascot. He even had a commemorative can of Bacon soup presented by the dancing demon. He could say that each day he made a small drawing of Bendy, Boris and Alice. His finger brushed a small mark of the past on his skin, practically the place that was on his heart. It had all been Joey Drew's idea, it was practically the one who encouraged him to both get a tattoo of the company mascot. Henry's parents probably would have found it very strange to know that Henry and his boss had made the same tattoo, one on the right hand and the other in his own chest above his heart. If they were still alive, they would not be happy to know that the youngest of their children had entered a seemingly abandoned decrepit place.

"I'll see if I can find what you want me to see." He sighed and continued to move. After a series of steps the man found himself inside a huge room, strangely a huge projector was still working and a cut out of Bendy placed on the wall next to it. That indicated that someone had recently been ally and had activated the projector. Maybe it was better to turn it off because it did not seem to work all that well anyway ... Drew never liked losing money with nonsense like that. With some indecision, Henry's fingers pressed the off button and the room was wrapped in silence. He waited and waited ... But nobody even came to scold him for coming forward without warning and touching things that he should not. Would the former staff workers that the artist knew from the past continue to work there? An alarm went off in his head. And if accidentally ... he had destroyed the projector? With panic, his fingers pressed the button of the projector again, igniting it with a click. At least it was not broken yet.

Henry looked with shame at the cut out of Bendy who seemed to look at him with a mixture of amusement and something of evil for the actions that the old worker had just committed. Bendy still had that huge white bow on his chest and the elegant black suit that was practically his identity sign, without forgetting his white gloves and shiny shoes. Practically both, human and toon, had the same height. His hand rested on the top between the curious “demon’s horns” that forms the hair of Bendy and He scratch him there as if this cut out of Bendy was a real person "Hey ... if you see Joey prowling around here ... cover me and don’t tell him what I did to the projector, I owe you one, buddy. "

With a somewhat tense smile he decided to get going and explore the workshop a little longer, Henry began to feel more confident and decided that maybe he could go back to his old desk and see if everything was the same as before his departure. He wanted to find the reason why, after so many years, his old boss had sent him a letter. It was a shame that he turned his back on Bendy's cut out.

Well, the moment Henry left the room for one of the corridors, the smile of the cardboard demon widened at the same time one of his curious eyes gave a wink to the clueless human.

All the corridors seemed to have the same deteriorated and desert appearance at first sight without any sign of human activity in a long time. Although Henry's goal at that time was just to check his old work desk. He did not understand the reason but he felt that for some incomprehensible reason he should look at it ... Maybe a letter with instructions for him would be there? His steps were decisive as he entered the corridor on the left that remained intact in his memories as if they were printed on fire. After a series of steps his eyes were fixed on his old work space. It was small, somewhat messy and not the best place for privacy. But Henry had never needed a different place to work on his passion for drawing. A smile widened on his face. Everything was the same. The uncomfortable wooden chair where miraculously a splinter had never been nailed to him, some old pens of ink that rested on the bottom of his old desk, a small drawing with a drawing of the first design of Bendy's face with the words "NO" written on one side with the elegant calligraphy of Drew. All the same as in the past. Even the same cut out of Bendy was still leaning on the same spot on the wall next to his old desk, somehow Henry felt that it was as if that black eyes were watching all his movements but decided to put those thoughts aside. It was just that he felt lonely and his paranoia progressed more in every second that passed.

"It's been so long since I've used this place for the last time ..." His fingers stroked the surface of the desk and stained a dark grey due to the dust that was discarded there. His eyes looked at the cardboard figure "Thank you for keeping it for me during these years."

The cartoon Bendy did not respond, but the young man could swear that for a few seconds he seemed to see a kind of shine in his eyes and that the smile seemed to grow larger. Okay, he was starting to see things and he should not get carried away by nerves so soon. The man gave a gesture of farewell with his hand to the cartoon figure and turned on his heels to continue looking for any trace of humans or workers there. Another corridor stretched out before him but was inaccessible because a barricade of wooden boards was stuck there and impeded the passage there. It was weird ... Why would someone want to block the way there? It was as if the barricade was set so that no one could access from the corridor to their work space.

With quick steps the human left his place of work of the past and returned to go back to his current mission to find any sign or activity that would indicate the presence of employees there, although throughout the place the only thing that the artist found more empty corridors, rooms not seen because the doors were blocked. Removing those factors, everything else seemed quite normal. It is true that there were various pieces of furniture thrown by any place or covered with cobwebs but they did not seem to be in such bad condition. Henry even allowed himself to "borrow" a can of bacon soup that protruded from a drawer of a closet and had kept it in his messenger backpack. Despite the fact that years had passed, the contents of that soup could still be eaten without suffering anything more than a little stomach pain. True? In one of the corridors was written in black ink the phrase "Dreams come true." and this did nothing but alter the nerves of the altered artist. Who would have written that? Joey? Sammy? They were the two strangest guys he worked with ... That did not stop him, on his way he found another door from which it was seen that there was light inside through the hole underneath it while a curious melody I left there. Would there be a radio on? Henry tried to open it, but to his surprise it was blocked and he frowned. Who would leave a radio on in a locked room?

And then he saw it. Above the entrance to the room were the words written in black ink of "The ink machine" that gave the name to the strange artefact of ancient appearance from which dripped a very dark ink. Henry had never seen the ink machine although it was true that during the time he was working there, he was practically forbidden from approaching those halls. Even seeing that artefact closely made him feel like someone insignificant, like a stranger in his own home. The reason why something like that was installed there was a mystery to him. Was this the reason Joey had sent him the letter? After all he said that he had something very important that he wanted to show to him. Henry allowed himself to enter more inside the curious room, his eyes crossed momentarily with another cut out of Bendy that rested against the wall and seemed to smile at him. Of course. How many Cut outs had Joey scattered around the studio? It gave the sensation that with each step that you took you find one when turning the corner. There was a note sticking badly to the structure of the machine with the impeccable calligraphy of the head of the company.

"Turn on the machine, Henry" was the short message that was written on the note. Rare, why could not the eccentric man just come and tell him what he had to say? His boss had ALWAYS been a strange, colourful guy ... one of the qualities that caught the innocent Henry's affections of the past. Embarrassed, the artist retraced his steps trying not to make eye contact with the cartoon Bendy and this time he turned to the right of the corridor to find a way to find what turned on the machine. He did not know whether to look for a lever, a button, a code ... How was the ink machine turned on?

On his way Henry found more cans of bacon soup that he "borrowed" again, more locked doors and another cut out of the company mascot ... But he did not find anything to indicate or give clues about the operation of the machine. He was very startled when the wood of the ceiling ceased and almost fell on his head. His heart was beating hard for several seconds while an unpleasant feeling was nestled in the pit of his stomach, Henry decided that from that moment he should be more careful. He continued to the right and finally he found a curious room, to define it in some way, full of six curious pedestals with photos of different objects next to each one and a curious lever stained with ink with a sign on it with the words " Main power "written there. There was also another poster even smaller with the words "Low pressure" blinking with a sharp yellow light. Another note was stuck on the lever and he had Drew's calligraphy again.

"Fix the ink machine, Henry." Henry began to feel a headache from the stupid notes. Why Joey had to complicate everything and just could not appear anymore? Was Henry an errand boy or a puppet who had to obey all his orders? It had been several years! He was no longer his lapdog who followed him everywhere and always praised him! Thinking as he was in the past filled him with anger and disgust towards himself. How lucky that Henry will stay in the past. His gaze went back to the posters of the objects next to the pedestals, maybe those six items were what he needed to activate the pressure or something like this: A Bendy doll, a wrench, a small ink jar, a book, a record and a gear. Henry unbuttoned his coat, it was nothing too hard to find if he used it thoroughly. His mind began to review the places he had already travelled while he left the place.

Henry had been so locked in his thoughts that he had not noticed Bendy's cut out in the hallway until he practically collided with him. His heart was beating again as a blush adorned his cheeks to be ashamed of not having noticed the cardboard demon before.  
"Sorry, I had not seen you and ..." his mind clicked at that moment. Was he really apologizing to something that was not alive? That cardboard would not mind his clumsiness and distraction. He advanced a couple of steps more when another conclusion came to mind.

He had not been careless. It was that that cut out was NOT there before. He had seen Bendy everywhere except there. The more he thought about it, the more Goosebumps he felt in the pit of his stomach. Could not it be that he had been distracted and that it had been there and he had not noticed? The other possibility was that he was not as alone in the studio as he thought and that someone was dedicated to follow him and to change things on site as a joke and bad taste. No doubt, he preferred the first option, but Henry preferred to distract his mind with something else.

Henry turned again to see the cut out who now stared at him as if he had turned around alone and unaided. Okay, before there was only the nervous and paranoid artist, now he was very scared. His next move had to be premeditated. His instinct for survival and common dictated that he leaves the place as quickly as his legs allowed him and forget all that matter never to return. But his conscience and curiosity did not agree, and he was ordered to continue the investigation. He was already a young adult, had his own apartment and paid his bills while fighting every day to survive independently. A stupid person from the past and a few strange phenomena would not make him go back like a frightened child in the arms of his parents. Everything would have a completely logical explanation, like for example that Joey or an employee was decided to play a joke on him.

He took a deep sigh and decided to continue entering the silent corridors of the area in search of the items without being aware that from the shadows he was all the time observed by a hidden figure who expected that little by little the mechanisms of his plan began. to work ....

Well, after all, the artist had fulfilled his expectations and it was time to shine and share the spotlight with that old friend.


	2. The pieces begin to move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces begin to turn, dark mysteries begin to come to light and the items are fitting in their places and the ink machine is starting to work ... While a figure is waiting impatiently for the arrival of the artist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Finally, here is chapter 2!  
> Thank you very much for all the kudos and the nice comments ^^ they really encouraged me to continue writing the story! Thank you very much! And also thank you very much to all who have read the story!  
> I hope you like it and have a good day / afternoon or night!

He took a big breath and returned to his mission to find the six items that somehow or other would activate the ink machine ... It was weird. Why Joey had not simply left the lever to activate it? So much desire did the man have to complicate things? Henry did not like to feel like a doll moving under the orders of his creative owner. Putting all the blind faith in Drew was a mistake he made once and everything had gone wrong for the youngest in several ways. The artist ignored the bitter thoughts that began to accumulate in his mind and continued looking for all the items among all the rooms and corridors that looked the same, setting aside squeaky chairs and crouching under dusty desks to find any trace of items in deserted and empty rooms. It was strange that no thief had snuck into the place to steal something, because the furniture was not in such bad condition and all the merchandise of Bendy. Probably all those posters and dolls would have a high market value in some future, and even so Henry was grateful that no one had taken them ... The idea of stealing them was like asking someone to tear a person's heart out from a healthy person full of life. It was something miserable and dirty. On his way, only more locked doors appeared and some other shelf with cans of bacon soup that the human did not hesitate to put them in the messenger backpack that began to gain a little more weight with each can that was added. Stealing was wrong, but according to the artist's point of view that was not a robbery, it was a "borrowing" to eat later and there wouldn’t be any crime because the cans would stay in the studio. Nothing else to open a closet with shelves inside and a couple of cans of soup inside this, he noticed that on the shelf of the wall there was a curious tape recorder. That was new, without thinking his fingers grabbed the curious object while it cleared a cloud of dust to be moved from its site.  
Henry held it in his hands with curiosity, the tape recorder did not weigh much. Would it work yet? His fingers pressed the power button and a small static filled the silence of the corridors and then be replaced with a voice of a characteristic Brooklyn accent. That voice awoke a great feeling of joy inside him to recognize the owner of that voice. It was Wally Franks and his characteristic accent. The janitor provided information of great importance to Henry. For starters, everything was bad condition in the study. That was not entirely strange to him after having seen with his own eyes the state of the building.

Anyway, how long would that recording take there? Wally continued with his narrative, this time talking about the ink machine he had seen in the other room with Joey's note. And then he talked about something Henry did not expect. For some incomprehensible reason Joey had practically forced his employees to offer something, as an offering, for the room of the pedestals that were now empty. The recording ended with Franks complaining about the pipes breaking, causing Henry to giggle. Yes, Wally was still the same young man who had taken Henry "under his wing," the same one with whom he planned cheating to annoy the Music Department director of the place or the one he was hiding when Lawrence's eccentric was fuming at his Workplace. God, it seemed like an eternity had passed since those days now that he was in the ruined study.  
"It's been a long time, old friend ..." he murmured as he left the tape recorder back in place "But now I cannot stop to chat, Drew has me on a mission to find some objects to activate the machine ... so I cannot stay, I'm sorry, buddy. " Henry stopped, behind the lid of one of the desks was the necessary reminder for one of the pedestals. It was a joy, and there were only five left.

The next item took Henry more time to find it, he found a door that was slightly open just next to the room of the ink machine and he pushed it gently. Stairs descended into a large room with round wooden chairs and tables. There were curious lights that somehow continued to illuminate with light and more posters of Bendy. He remembered that room very little. It was where the employees met in their breaks and ate or drank coffee to calm their nerves. On one of the tables rested a hardcover black book with the words "The illusion of living, written by Joey Drew" engraved on its surface. Henry rolls his eyes as he kept that heavy book in his messenger backpack next to the record he had found before. There were only four left.

He retraced his steps to continue his search while he frowned. The backpack began to weigh more and more and an uncomfortable pain began to settle on his shoulder. Nothing else to happen until he walked beside the blocked door where the music escaped, stopping suddenly, disappearing even the light that was filtered by the cracks. Henry put his hand to his chest to calm himself. What had just happened?! His fingers were placed on the doorknob and surprisingly it gave as if nothing. There was another shelf with bacon soup cans and a table on which rested a huge antique-looking radio. His fingers pressed the power button and a surprisingly catchy tune began to come out of it. But no item was there.

Finding the wrench wasn’t that difficult, it was practically lying on a wall with the words of "Dreams come true" written on it. That was a small personal satisfaction for him. There were only three left. Time passed slowly the more he searched, returning again to the projector room where was the cut out of the human demon that seemed to follow all his movements with his black eyes. That was silly, that Bendy’s cardboard wasn’t alive and Henry had to get used to it once and for all. His eyes focused on the projector that was still reflecting a beam of white light on the empty wall while a music did not stop ringing ... Under this was a can of soup ... and the tiny and squeaky Bendy Doll. When he grabbed it, it released a squeaking sound while it was deposited in the bag with the other objects, and his eyes located the small ink jar located in a desk in that same area, although because this object did not have a stopper he decided to take it in his hand to Avoid staining his backpack with ink. Only one object was missing.

With more frustration. Henry continued to explore the labyrinthine corridors of the studio in search of the gear, returning unconsciously to the place where Wally’s tape recorder was. A cut out of Bendy peeked through the door to the left of the human almost causing him to drop the ink jar and give him a heart attack.

"Okay, this is definitely very weird!" Trying to recompose himself, Henry tried to open the door through which that cut out of Bendy partially appeared ... But it was impossible to open the door, as if something blocked it from inside. With quick steps he left that place feeling Bendy's eyes nailed to his back with a morbid diversion in them.

Well really, it was the first time that the human demon had fun in a long time to scare a human. It was time to have another plaything for him before someone could ruin his fun.

Henry found himself in a small room with several wooden chairs, a projector and a big machine that took up a lot of space, not forgetting dustier tin cans and ... A smile lit up his face. At last he found the gear! All the items were already!

"Finally! Finally, I have all the items!"

He was so excited that he didn’t notice that when he returned through the corridors, Henry took the wrong direction and walked in the opposite direction to the room of the altars to find a scenario that he couldn’t imagine the horror that awaited him there.

Although his breathing stopped when he encountered the most grotesque show he had ever seen in his life.  
A man was lying on a table with thick leather straps that closed over his shoulders and neck, waist and wrists and finally a thick strip that closed below the knees. The show wouldn’t be worth anything of a horror movie but because the chest of that mysterious stranger was open in channel and the bones of his ribs pierced the white skin of the poor victim who nailed and tear the fabric of the black sweater that he was wearing. Little by little the artist approached the experimentation table illuminated by a pair of candles that gave an even more gloomy air. The strange thing was that this man was not just any man, not only because of his white skin and the crosses that were in the place of his eyes or because there was no trace of blood. But because it was ...  
"Boris?! Oh my God ... Joey what have you done ?!" Now his voice was not able to mask the horror and fear that he had then Henry had managed to control. That man was exact to the human wolf he had created for cartoons, same clothes, same hair style, and also ... his same face. But all that was impossible! Boris was not real ... How could he be then in the real world? His mind went back to working on realistic theories even though they were all far-fetched. Maybe it was just a scale doll or a mannequin ... With indecision his fingers touched one of Boris's arms and he immediately pushed them away, regretting his decision.

The touch was cold like a gelid stone ... Or like a corpse. Another thought for nothing reassuring crossed his mind again ... How long had that body been there? The skin was not rotten and didn’t odour, indicating that the corpse was recent or had been there for a short time. That didn’t make Henry feel safe. His heart pounded harder as his eyes threatened to let out the tears that were hidden there. Of course he had always dreamed that his creations came to life ... but not to end that way ...

"I'm so sorry Boris ... I'm really sorry ... if I had been here ..."

What could he have done? He wasn’t intimidating or strong, physical combat and melee weren’t his specialty ... But at least Henry had tried to do whatever was in his power to prevent this man so similar to Boris had ended that way. His logical and self-preservation part shouted to him that this was no longer a game or a walk in the park. There was a corpse in front of him! This was no longer safe! Had Joey been the author of that macabre crime? Or was there some psychopath around the building, waiting for him to lower his back to stab him? In a miraculous way he managed to stay on his feet, there was no time for logic. Henry wouldn’t flee again with his tail between his legs like a beaten dog. No.

He had all planned. His plan was simple: place the items in their places, activate the machine and confront Joey about Boris's corpse. Not too complicated  
And he would lie if he said that part of him inside, a great curiosity and desire to know spread too fast in his body. Henry just hoped that there would be no more complicated puzzles after leaving them in their places. The artist had no more patience with that Joey crap and his mania to complicate everything. His eyes went back to the hole in the dead man's chest. There wasn’t any trace of blood, only a faint ink flow that was slowly pouring out of his chest. That made him feel dizzy and without further words he turned on his heels. Anyway ... Was there anything he could say? He walked as fast as he could to the room with an empty look fixed on the front and practically threw all the objects to their respective places while it was illuminated above each one a light coming from the spotlights that were on them.

But nothing sinister happened to Henry's disappointment, the studio was silent. He just needed to find a way to make the ink flow and restore power. In some way that made him feel braver and determined. The study came back to life. Strangely, the cut out of Bendy who had previously stood in the hall had disappeared without a trace, but Henry was not carried away by the panic. It would show the person who wanted to scare him that he wouldn’t succeed. As if his legs were being manipulated, they took the man through the corridors to possibly the place where he found the way to activate the pressure again.

Not far from there a figure with hair as black as the night observed all the movements of the human with caution, really, there was no way to scare him ... Poor human. A cruel smile settled on his lips, showing perfect sharp white teeth. Nobody was ready to escape from Bendy's game. And for some time he needed a playmate. It was time to give another scare to the conceited human. And if the human demon was expert in something, it was in getting under the skin of his playmates and pushing them to their limits. Well, after all, there was nothing more fun than to break someone's mind little by little.

 

Henry walked more quickly, the room was already close and he alone had to cross the creaky wooden hall before him, that was as easy as stealing a candy from a baby and not feel guilty about it. He whistled as a defense mechanism to forget that only in a room there was a corpse not far from them, he had to stay safe and not show weakness ... Bang! A smiling cardboard Bendy partially peeked around the corner at the end of the corridor, focusing his black eyes on the perplexed human who felt his safety diminish to an unpleasant speed.  
"No ... this is not possible ..." his voice was somewhat broken "You ... You cannot move! You're not alive!"  
The young artist could swear that he could hear a malicious giggle from Bendy's cut out as he disappeared around the corner again. Ignoring the common sense and his heart that seemed about to explode due to the accelerated heartbeat, Henry ran towards the direction where the cut out of the human demon had appeared. This time he had to catch the guy who didn’t stop those horrible jokes! How unpleasant was the feeling that the young man stuck in his stomach when he turned the corner and found himself alone with the cardboard of Bendy leaning casually on the wall as if he hasn’t moved from there, dedicating exclusively to him an innocent smile, as if nothing supernatural had happened while a puddle of ink formed beneath it.

"You have to be kidding ..." Henry gave him an accusing look "I've seen you ... ugh, I really need more sleep or a coffee to relax myself."  
The projector was lit abruptly, reflecting on the screen of black fabric a small animation of the human demon moving his arms in a comic dance, his black suit was resplendent and the white ribbon on his neck looked very good .... Henry remembered having participated him in that recording. A soft melody accompanied the animation, breaking the monotonous silence of the crispy wood of the floor and the drops of ink that occasionally dripped from the ceiling. Not really the best combination.  
Without losing more time and with a huge desire to leave the place the young man pressed his tired fingers against the button that unlocked the action of the flow of ink... The black liquid was already traveling to its free will through the pipes towards all the directions of the study, giving life to him while a great jet of the black and sticky liquid fell towards the floor of the room and it began to flood.  
"Ugh ... that's disgusting." Henry's shoes were dyed black when drenched by the touch of ink that now reached his ankles. Henry doubted that the dry cleaner could fix them so that when he left there he would have to throw them away. He leaped in that puddle, careful not to stain his clothes anymore, his messenger bag full of cans and his hair, with the red wool cap that covered him with the ink that escaped from the pipe above his head. Henry knew that all his missions were over and he really was exhausted. He would change his plans: he would activate only the ink machine and return to the small room he had rented for a few days. Joey could wait, if he had done all those damn missions, Henry could go home and return the next day. The idea of having a hot coffee really encouraged him to continue forward and fill his slashing face towards himself while strange sounds began to reign over the place.

“Let's go ... just a little more and that's it!" His hand descended on the heavy lever of the room, pushing it down. Everything was covered in a semi darkness and the spotlights of the pedestals also went out while the ink travelled more strongly through the old pipes. Without being more sure, Henry decided to inspect the ink machine for the last time, to make sure everything was fine and to leave the fastest of it. Except Bendy's Cut outs and the body of the man so similar to Boris that he tried with all his might to expel from his mind, he was supposed to be reunited with Joey Drew ... His mentor, who taught him everything, that now he knew about ink and cartoons ... and the person who stole his creations and all his innocence. In both ways. Henry really hated to walk all day to face the person who had ruined a part of his life and the reason that he still attended the sessions of a psychologist and he hasn’t remade his life with a woman or a man. Henry had created an unbreakable barrier between himself and the world, isolating himself practically so that no one could harm him again.

Henry was dragged out of his thoughts when the sound of gears fitting and moving in unison and the sound of more ink falling from the ceiling creating an incredibly disturbing sonata. His eyes moistened with anguish when he noticed that now the entrance to the ink machine room was blocked by thick and large wooden planks, that were not like that before. All his work had been thrown overboard since now he could not even investigate a little the strange artefact.  
"Oh man ... seriously? This has to be a joke, I'm sick of this shit." His hand rested against one of the planks while he regained his breath. When had these planks been placed? He had been ally and had not heard anything or seen someone who indicated that someone was doing the work of blocking the entrance to the picturesque room.  
And now that? Should he go home? Looking for Joey? Because, of course, the idea of smashing the boards was out of the question, Henry had never been a tough guy with those things to break things up.

"Well Joey ... it seems that I have already completed all your missions" he muttered under his breath while his eyes were fixed on the ground and his shoes were dyed black by the liquid of sticky texture "and you have not even deigned to receive me, heh, damn bastard ... I'm not going to waste any more time here, so now I'll go and ... "

CLANK!

Henry watched in horror as something had closed tightly on the wrist that was leaning against the wood, restraining it tightly. It was a large, gloved hand that held him with a firm, iron grip that restricted his movements. Soon a bruise would form there because of the pressure. Henry heard himself scream as the poor artist was dragged farther into the locked entrance, his chest pressing uncomfortably against the planks as the splinters dug into his clothes and skin as he futilely struggled to free himself.

"Release me! Let me go!" Henry watched in horror the owner of the gloved hand that held him prisoner. He was a tall man, too tall, dressed in an elegant black suit stained with ink while hanging from his neck clumsily a white bow almost undone. This individual could pass by an ordinary human if not for a smile of sharp teeth filled his entire face while his strange black hair that curiously formed "horns" dripped a thick black liquid that gave him a terrifying appearance that would scare even the bravest person. It was really a monster. The red eyes of this stranger stuck into the helpless human while the sharp fingernails that ripped the gloves were nailed to Henry's skin to ensure more grip while screaming in pain while he was waving a long thin tail of demon black A demon was in front of him.

The artist was really terrified, he had never been a believer and now he was facing a demon. A real demon.

"It's been a long time ... that's how you say hello to your old mentor ... What a shame ... I've ..." The voice was raspy and dark, like a sandpaper "I thought that after so long without seeing you, you would want to see me again, my little fugitive apprentice ... "  
The grip became stronger while the nails were digging deeper, causing his skin to tear more and dye his white gloves with a reddish tone.

Wait! That man thing knew him?! Where the fuck was the fucking Joey?! With a huge force that the young man didn’t knew that he possessed, the former employee managed to free himself from the grip of his captor causing his wrist to creak horribly while a streak of pain forced him to scream.

If his wrist wasn’t broken, at least it would be impossible for him to move it for a while. But that was not the main priority at that moment. The man, better said monster, hid behind the wooden planks let out a scream of fury when Henry stepped back a couple of steps holding his injured wrist to soothe his pain a little. Ink fell everywhere and the floor began to flood. He had to get out of there before drowning in ink or being the victim of this mysterious man .... Would it have been him who had finished with Boris? There was no time for questions!  
"Don’t you dare to run away again!" the voice claimed him with hatred, threatening to break the planks that held him in the room of the machine "I haven’t waited all these years for you to flee again!"  
Henry felt a cold sweat running down his back, turning on his heels to escape the macabre monsters that did nothing but call and threaten him. It was difficult to orient himself now through the corridors and hall as more ink fell on the floor and he, blinding him for seconds. Everything was dark and the ink rose too fast, running was tired and difficult and his lungs struggled to retain more air while the strong smell of ink was sneaking into Henry's nostrils.  
"Where's the fucking exit ?!" the man snorted feeling his cheeks red from the effort as the adrenaline continued to propel him forward. The study was like a damn labyrinth of rooms and corridors without end. His heart was beating fast and he didn’t even dare to look back to see if the strange man had left the room and pursued him as in one of those horrible persecutions of horror movies where the madman pursued the protagonist with an axe or any weapon to kill his victim. The exit. He had to find the exit. The ink was already passing his knees and was still rising! After what seemed like a great eternity, the main room came into view and he let out an exhausted sigh. The exit was close!  
His hand almost approached the handle of the door when the floor under his feet literally disappeared, making him fall into a deep abyss that didn’t seem to have an end.

 

Ink fell everywhere as Henry descended more and more in that trapdoor that seemed to have no end. Who the hell had put that trap next to the exit?! Slowly, his mind came to the conclusion that this couldn’t be a casual chance, he had walked on that trap door when he entered and nothing had happened at that time ...  
Who had put that trap, had put with the intention that when someone would have tried to flee it would end with a fall into the depths of the building and will not reach the exit. Ink fell around him and for a few seconds Henry felt that the currents of the black liquid curled around him as if they were slowing down his impending fall.  
Henry closed his eyes with force, he had heard all his life that when a person had an experience very close to death the most important events of his life passed in the form of flash before his eyes ... But nothing happened, only darkness and pain when squeezing them so hard.  
The only thing that kept repeating over and over in his head was the image of his sister Linda when they saw each other the last time several weeks after her birthday. Linda had recently lost her husband in a car accident and for a while Henry had lived with her and her children, his nephews, to help them make this sad stage more enjoyable ... Until he decided it was time of "extending the wings and finding their own nest". Linda had not entirely agreed with that decision, but she could not force her little brother to stay with them forever. It was time for both of them to move forward and their paths to distance themselves a little. That didn’t mean that both didn’t call each other by phone every day and made video calls every three days ...  
'Take care little brother, little squirt' Linda's sweet voice echoed in her ears' and come back soon please, the children and I always wait with open arms, this is your house too. "

"I'm sorry Linda ... I don’t think I'll be able to come back in a long time, take care of the children for me"

All the air was expelled from his lungs at the same moment that Henry hit the wooden floor and the ink that flooded a small part of the room and in a certain way "softened" his fall. The pain was indescribable, he felt his ribs and bones were twisted or thrown in any direction. Only after a few deep air gasps, Henry was able to breathe normally again. He still had some adrenaline that had been preserved after the escape of the mysterious man / monster that had tried to catch him before. Carefully, Henry managed to sit on the hard surface while the ink soaked his pants and part of his shirt leaving him feeling cold and sticky and unpleasant sensation. Tears appeared in his eyes but the artist restrained them as best he could to deal with them. He had to get out of there.  
The room wasn’t very large and the exits were inaccessible because the black liquid didn’t stop flowing through the ceiling and walls. Henry got up carefully and checked that no bone was out of place, but except for his injured wrist everything else was fine. It was difficult to stand and move by the sticky liquid that prevented him from moving fast and even run, Henry really was very desperate to ignore the repulsion he felt, but it would not help if everything would continue to flooded. He had to find a way to drain the ink to move to the next room. It was lucky that there were pipe valves near him, that meant nothing to dive into the ink in search of unnecessary items.

"This has to work."  
With effort, Henry was able to turn the heavy mechanism that gave way with a rustling screech. His mind tried to calm him, trying to ignore the events that just happened to him and the fact of how the hell he had survived a fall like that. Henry couldn’t stop thinking. Henry kept thinking that as soon as he got out of there, he would have a big shower of hot and misty water, comfortable and clean clothes and a cup of hot coffee while he was curled up on the sofa waiting for the pizza’s deliveryman to bring him a dinner. Should he include a notebook and a couple of pens to draw? That always relaxed him a lot but there was a high probability that he would draw something related to Bendy. Remembering that he had a tattoo of Bendy on his chest over his heart made him feel miserable. Could Henry be able to look in a mirror after those events? His psychologist had recommended that he should remove the tattoo that was only a reminder of his past ... but a part of Henry refused to turn his back on something he still loved even if it sounded absurd.

The liquid was drained little by little from the ground, revealing a shelf where there was another tape recorder and a can of bacon soup abandoned like nothing. Henry put the can of soup in his messenger backpack with the others while the fingers of his other hand pressed the power button on the tape recorder, causing the repairman of Joey Drew Studios' voice, Thomas Connor.  
Henry didn’t remember much this man, it is true that the first days this man and Wally were in charge of supervising him because Joey was very busy with private matters, but Thomas ended up leaving this task alone to Wally with the phrase "No, Mr. Drew doesn’t pay enough for me to take care of children now. " After that, you could say that both avoided each other, Thomas was always complaining about everything, especially he complained about a new machine that was in the process of creation when Henry arrived.  
Without further hesitation, Henry took all the ink that he could of his clothes and continued advancing towards the stairs below, entering more into the depths of that unknown place, draining more ink from other rooms and investigating some possible way out.

He carefully handled the dusty axe in his hands and gave it a swing to test it. It wasn’t the first time he had handled an axe. As a child he was part of a group of Boy scouts where he was taught how to handle the axe to cut wood and branches, and in the summers he would go to his grandfather's farm to help him with the tasks of the place... It was the first time that he used it for a long time, with luck, he would only have to use it to cut some wooden planks. He had the hope that the strange man from the main floor will not find him and they wouldn’t have a confrontation. The painting of black letters that said "The creator lied to us" was disturbing. Now he felt less secure. Who would have written that? What did that man know him? That was a question he would try to solve when Henry was safe at home or when he found a way out, no matter if it was a door or window ...

But all their idyllic hopes vanished when they broke the last wooden planks that blocked a door that opened without any effort. There was a strange pentagram drawn on the floor with black ink. That was too much for him, all this was taking a more sinister turn than he had already expected. What the fuck was Joey playing with?! Two coffins were leaning against the wall vertically while another coffin rested horizontally next to them. Candles illuminated with dim light the circle painted in the middle of a room, giving more sensation of anxiety and horror. All this had to be a horrible nightmare! This already went out of everything normal! Not even those mysterious cardboard demons and the presence of the disturbed man surpassed the appearance of that demonic pentagram.

"What ... what's going on ?!" His hands grabbed his head and he tried to massage his forehead as Henry stumbled into the room feeling an oppressive headache that was worse than a hangover day. Nothing else to put a foot in contact with the pentagram, everything was of bad in worse while his headache increased and strange visions are spread by his mind.  
First, a yellowish image of the ink machine. Henry staggered, feeling an oppressive pain in his chest, just above the place of the tattoo on his chest as ink stains spread across the walls.  
Second: An image of an old wheelchair that for the artist didn’t make any sense. No one he knew from the studio needed a wheelchair during his stay! Now he had fallen on his knees to the ground causing great pain. It was harder for Henry to breathe.  
Finally, a split image appeared in half, in one was the lunatic-looking man who had tried to catch him and gave him chills. On the other side was a man about Henry's age, with black hair that formed a kind of "horns" due to the style of hairstyle and his clothes were elegant and bright, shining like an angel. An angel from hell.

"Bendy ..."

The axe slipped painfully from his hand as his body surrendered to the pain that spread throughout his body, leading him to unconsciousness at great speed.  
The last thing Henry saw was a pair of shiny black shoes before him as a melodic voice hummed something similar to a lullaby as his consciousness disappeared.

 

The figure that was in front of Henry couldn’t hide a small smile when he saw the fragile human lying on the ground, crouched on himself like a baby or a small hedgehog. He was really adorable in the eyes of the man with black hair and a smile with pearly teeth that showed a cruel and diabolic smile.

Humans could be extraordinary creatures, but still fragile and weak.

His right hand, gloved in an elegant glove of white cloth, came forward to try to caress the face of the fainted man and clean the ink spots that began to dry on his cheeks ... But he had to remove it with a loud hiss of frustration.

"Joey ... you fucking bastard!" even angry, his voice didn’t lose the elegant tone. He hadn’t noticed the ink pentagram in which the exhausted artist was faint at that moment, blinking with a slight reddish tone.

Henry. HIS Henry was lying in the middle of that pentagram, with no possibility that he could even touch him since the damned phony had made sure that he, the dancing demon, couldn’t get through that pentagram.

At last they were both facing each other, creator and creation together ... and he couldn’t even touch him. Not now for the moment. But that wouldn’t stop him, if he could not have his creator now ...

He would keep an eye on Henry, maybe it wasn’t time for both of them to meet ... and in a way that bothered him.

Bendy, the dancing demon.

"Don’t worry creator, soon we will have the opportunity to 'resolve pending issues'" a non-reassuring laughter filled the room while the man in elegant suit got up and deposited the axe next to one of the coffins. Henry would need it for what awaited him behind the door blocked with wooden boards.

Well, the curtain had just risen and the show could start at any moment. A dark show that didn't promise a friendly function.


	3. Beware of the creatures that haunt the studio.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The labyrinth of the halls of the Studio is showing Henry that there are more things to worry about and that nothing is what it seems, armed with only the axe and without any other options the human must fight to survive while strange creatures sprout from the ink and a figure from the past observes him from the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the next chapter! Thank you very much for all the Kudos and comments! They encourage me a lot to continue the story! I also want to thank all the people who read the story too!  
> I hope you like it and have a good day / afternoon or night!

Different shades of darkness passed before Henry's eyes, first an absolute darkness, then some grey spots that vanished the total darkness to be finally replaced by a faint orange hue dull while a sea of memories crowded his mind in a vertiginous and disorderly, like a trunk of child’s toys.  
All messy and careless.

"What happened?"

Sounds of wood creaking through the passage of time filled the place along with the sound that caused the drops of ink to slide from the ceiling to the floor and the distant rumble of a whistle for nothing friendly or welcoming. A tinkling flame of a group of solitary candles was the only thing that illuminated the room where the artist's body rested while under him was the drawing of the satanic-looking pentagram that had long since given off the reddish glow.  
"Ugh, my head ..." Pain’s points ran through his head as consciousness brought him back to the nightmare in which his life had now become in just a couple of hours. The man opened his eyes with excessive slowness, fixing his irises in the small flame that was several centimetres from his face, placed on a candle of white wax that miraculously had not melted. With effort, Henry stood up as he could from the ground, moaning in pain as he feels some pain’s points in some parts of his body highlighting especially in the area of the back and legs. It was as if he had run a great obstacle course, with the difference that now he was trapped in some lower floor of the studio along with a dangerous and weird-looking man that Henry was convinced he would be right now looking for somewhere to finish his next victim who was alone and defenceless.

Henry felt a lump in his throat, the studio was not so big when he had been working there or at least he didn’t remember, the artist had always worked on the main floor.  
Where would Joey be? The owner of the place had cited him there for some reason. Was it because of the ink machine? Or for some hidden reason? More important, why had he been such an idiot to return without first notifying anyone? Of course, his neighbours wouldn’t notice the strange disappearance of the young man, at work the other workers would notice his absence but everyone believed that the artist was on vacation. And Linda? Henry wanted to convince himself that she would notice his absence because someone had to do it ... But thinking seriously, her children had just started school and Linda lately worked a lot and may not notice the strange absence of his brother by not responding to her messages or calls.

That was! Herr phone! He could use it to call the police and ask for help!

Henry checked around looking for the old messenger backpack he had brought with him for the trip, but strangely it was nowhere to be found and that caused more nerves in the lost man. The same thing happened with his coat and the cans of bacon soup. Where were his belongings? A chill ran through his body, in front of him was a trail of ink footsteps right at the edge of the pentagram where he had been passed out.

Someone had been there with him?! Cold sweats ran down the young man's back. The thought of the disturbed man in the ink machine having been there, having Henry in his grasp to do what his disturbed mind dictated, caused Henry an unpleasant dizziness. His mouth felt dry, obviously had not killed him but for some reason had taken his belongings, leaving man unable to communicate or ask for help from someone.  
His stomach growled, protesting at the feeling of emptiness while Henry frowned. When had it been the last time he had ...? NO! It was not time to think about food! A stranger had been with him while he was unconscious! That stranger could have attacked him! Or kill him! OR...!  
Henry checked himself, his clothes were still in place, stained still and stinking of dust and sweat, but in their respective places and he could not help but let out a sigh of relief.

He wouldn’t stand to get up and find himself naked against his will, not again.

His hands closed around the axe that was casually leaning against one of the coffins that was on the wall and from which the man didn’t want to know its contents. It was clear that whoever had stolen his belongings had left the axe there for him, as a disturbing reminder that his nightmare hadn’t ended.  
Maybe the thief wanted to keep his "guest" entertained before going after him to "Finish the game."  
"Well, I guess there is only one thing to do: press on. See if I can find the way out."

And Henry did not know why he was talking to himself out loud, but somehow it comforted him not to listen to the silence. Back was not an option; he could only continue through the door that was somehow open with broken wooden planks.

The newcomer to the place descended the stairs with great care, holding in his hands the old axe as if it was a baseball bat ready to use at any time and holding the breath while his ears analysed all the sounds. A wooden board fell from the ceiling and almost hit his head, but otherwise everything was quiet.

"He will set us free." Henry read aloud the disturbing inscription of black ink that seemed to drip from the wall while a small drawing of Bendy rested on his right looking with his black eyes at the artist with a friendly smile as if trying to calm him down. The ink seemed fresh, whoever had written it wouldn’t be far away and that wasn’t exactly good news. A can of bacon soup rested next to the drawing and Henry decided to ignore it and his complaining stomach, stopping now could be a mistake. A deadly mistake "Die for a bacon soup ... which is stupid to die."

He continued on his way, asking himself how that study could be SO big and why he hadn’t had access to those places before, well, abandon the place of his dreams. His vision was found with the unpleasant presence of more Coffins bothered more to Henry, wondering why they were there and making that disturbing thoughts comes to his tired mind, such as opening a door and found an aged Joey emerging from a coffin as a vampire and inviting him to take an 'eternal 'rest with him.

 

"Enough, Henry ..." His hands trembled as he leaned against the wall "The dead cannot do anything to you or cause you any harm ... this isn’t a horror movie."

A click resounded in the place and caused the young man to jump in place while his eyes were stuck on the tape recorder that seemed abandoned on a ledge of the wall under the drawing of Bendy. The tape recorder had activated itself and a strange falsely tracing voice filled the place.  
Henry frowned. The owner of that voice was Sammy Lawrence? He sounded so different, he didn’t seem to be the same snarling man he had known years ago, he seemed to be replaced by a creepy man of occultism from one of those strange sects that promised nothing good to anyone. Not even for its own members.  
Everything Sammy said didn’t make sense to the former worker. Old songs? Who had appeared from the dark abyss? Sacrifices? Had Sammy gone mad?

The audio of the tape recorder ended with the voice of Sammy almost begging for a love, an amen that of course Henry didn’t intend to say or give to a strange recording that was activated alone.

"I said Can I get an amen?"

Henry froze in place, his hands starting to loosen the axe that suddenly seemed too heavy in his hands.  
That wasn’t a recording, it was a real voice that seemed to have been whispered in his ear. Too close for his taste. Sammy was there? What was he doing there?! The study seemed abandoned. Had Sammy created an occult group or a sect and turned the studio into his lair? That idea wasn’t wonderful, but maybe Sammy would recognize him, maybe he would have mercy and would indicate to him the way out. Henry no longer cared about his lost backpack or his phone, he just wanted to escape from there and wish with all his might that Sammy wasn’t the lunatic who was dedicated to killing people.

"A .... Amen?"

Nobody answered. Henry didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved.

He continued his way, finding himself with a cutout of Bendy leaning against the drawing of a satanic pentagram of the wall, that displeased the man. Okay, Bendy was a demon but that didn’t entitle anyone to use his creation as ... that.  
"Hey ... Bendy, do you know where the exit is?" Of course, the cutout didn’t respond, but there seemed to be a glint of disappointment in his eyes and his smile didn’t seem happy but forced to hear his creator say that "It doesn’t matter, I'll find it in my way ... I'll greet the next cutout of Bendy for you ... "

The artist followed his path. If he had turned around at that moment he would have realized that the cutout he had been chatting with earlier had turned on himself, looking at him with a mixture of anger and disappointment while one of his hands threatened to grab the elusive human. 

A hallway flooded with ink stretched before him, Henry frowned as his mind remembered that feeling of stickiness and coldness as he felt the black liquid on his feet. How unpleasant that was. Before he could continue he heard something that made him stop his movements. Steps, and whistles. All coming in his direction ..  
His heart accelerated in an accelerated way as the heartbeat seemed to shatter his chest. By instinct, he hid behind the corner of the door that led to the flooded hallway, leaning slightly to see the owner of those steps while his hands clung more tightly to the axe.

Maybe it was only Sammy ... But his instinct for preservation and survival shouted that something was wrong and that he should hide, and for once the artist decided to obey.  
He breathed sharply, questioning how he had ended up there and why Joey hadn’t made an appearance yet. That didn’t help anything. Someone would arrive there, someone would save him and take him out of that place soon. The only thing he had to do was survive until then.

 

The dark-haired man snorted with boredom as his hands rested carelessly on the old backpack he "borrowed" from Henry, one of the few things he could have taken to force Henry to move on through the studio. Watching him in that part of the study was difficult, but that was not what bothered Bendy. What bothered him was that Henry wanted to leave when the game had only begun.

Fleeing could be a temporary option for the human. But leave ...

"Heh, that option isn’t available to you, creator." His fingers snapped, creating a horde of little moaning beings, expectant of the orders of his creator "you know where you should go, keep our guest entertained and make sure Sammy doesn’t find him ... If he dared to touch him ... Don’t hesitate to kill him. "

In Bendy's eyes, he was the only one who had the right to corrupt and destroy Henry's mind.  
A grin of sharp teeth replaced the grimace of boredom. And from what he could swear, he would have a lot of fun doing that.

 

Henry finally reached what seemed to be the music department, numerous notes of music were painted on the walls and there were some instruments resting in some places and another cutout of Bendy that seemed to welcome him to the place.  
"Hey ... the Bendy on the other side sends greetings to you ..." the artist felt foolish to say it, but that was better than the immense silence that surrounded him at that moment.

Henry looked around the music floor, finding puddles of ink on all sides, it didn’t seem that there was nobody there. He would cry for help ... but the idea of attracting unwanted attention or the crazy man was superior to his desire to find someone.

"I wonder what has happened here all these years." Henry said to himself as he walked "I wonder what Joey did after I left, I know he tried to reach me and bring me back ... but I wasn’t willing to fall in those moments, the damage was already fact..."

While he was talking to himself, finally he found the entrance with a sign that said "stairs" and following his instinct Henry decided to explore that new area. The good part was that he had found a door that indicated the exit of the place .... the bad part was that the stairwell was flooded with ink and unless the artist found a way to drain it would be impossible to unlock the door that separated him from Your desiring freedom. It was like Joey's bad joke: "Hey, there you have the exit but the door is blocked! Bad luck! Try again!"  
How tired he was of the studio and what seemed to be endless unpleasant surprises.

 

"Looks like the stairwell is flooded." The voice of the young man only reflected a deep irritation at having his freedom at his fingertips and still unable to reach her for the moment "If I'm going to get out of here, I'll need to find a way to drain Item."

By instinct, his hand was responsible for pushing the lever that was on his right that was responsible for producing an echo when activating something on that floor. Henry reluctantly retraced his steps, almost dragging his feet in the process while his eyes remained on the music discs and Bendy's cutout that seemed to make fun of him. Henry had never been so keen to punch anyone as he was at the moment, but he still held back. He needed to keep all his energies.  
Strangely, more puddles of ink seemed to have occupied the place and that was strange since the artist would swear that before there was not so much ink in that area ... A humanoid figure emerged from one of the dark puddles with a powerful jump.

"What the hell!?" Henry grabbed with more strength the only weapon he had at that moment in his disposition while his gaze did not stop studying that thing that had simply emerged from the ink. She was stooped and had no trace of clothing or features to indicate whether she was a man or a woman. There was also no sign of eyes or ears but even so that horrible creature tilted its head in Henry's direction while emitting a hiss or moan not friendly at all. The message was clear, that creature was not good news for him. "Get away, I have an axe and I'll use it if you get close!"

 

If the creature could understand him, it certainly didn’t show signs of it. With a powerful movement that amorphous being of ink let loose an unpleasant moan as it advanced, no, it crawled in the direction of the poor human, who didn’t take in understanding that it wasn’t the only creature that at that moment was chasing him by the music department. More creatures began to sprout from the puddles at a stunning speed, some were small but others were large and strong. But the worst thing is that they all had claws and a row of sharp teeth that caused a disagreeable sensation of panic in Henry.  
What were those things?! Some kind of modified animal?! The human swung the axe from side to side in front of him, trying to keep the groaning creatures at bay. It was as if they were zombies in search of human flesh, and by God, the only thing he needed now was a group of carnivorous creatures who wanted to make him his main dish.

"Back off!" Henry swung the axe again in the direction of the nearest dark being who backed away with a threatening hiss, they were surrounding him and if he did not hurry to find a solution it would be too late for him. One of the claws of the searches closed oppressively on his ankle that almost made him release the weapon to feel a great pain that would certainly leave a good dark bruise after "I said back off!"

With a great movement the blade of the axe sank on the creature that moments before had been holding his ankle in its claws, causing it to disappear in a cloud of ink and dust. Henry frowned in bewilderment, but decided to survive. He grasped the axe in his hands and charged against the amorphous beings of ink with determination in his eyes.

 

Not far away and hidden in the shadows, what remained of what had once been Sammy Lawrence observes the young human who miraculously fought against the group of searchers who had decided to take him as his lunch that day.  
He wasn’t prone to admire humans, he found them as helpless and uninteresting creatures even though that himself had been one of them in the past, but that young man was different and in a way familiar to the musician.

Sammy had seen that scene more times, it wasn’t the first time a human was venturing into the studio and they all ended the same: being food for searchers or for "Bendy", or being killed at the hands of "Alice" or on his own hands. And Sammy felt no remorse, none of them was worthy of being in the sanctuary that his Lord had created for them. His fingers closed tightly on the axe he had used to kill the victims that had fallen into his clutches. That man wasn’t like the others, he had something, a spark that kept him fighting and still alive in that hell of wood and ink. He will keep his eyes on him, maybe he would be worthy to be a sacrifice for his Lord.

Henry sighed with a sigh of relief as his back leaned hard against the wall and he slid slowly to the ground, releasing the axe and remaining in a sitting position while his arms hugged his legs and he hid his head in the fabric of the pants now soaked in ink. He had gotten it, had finished with all the creatures of ink that had wanted to eat him and the silence returned to be the owner of the place. An ardent sense of uneasiness filled the chest of the young artist who felt tired and wanting to lie on the floor, get a ball and never open his eyes again. But he forced himself to stand up, staggering with all his strength.

Now he couldn’t stop, more creatures or something worse could come for him. Damn the moment he decided to go back to the studio. Strangely, the music of the department had activated itself, producing a false atmosphere of joy and tranquillity that Henry felt distant and false. His steps were now too slow and with one hand dragging the axe across the floor, he didn’t feel able to hold it in his hands for the time being. On his way he found a weird-looking balcony with a projector and a tape recorder resting in an organized manner on the edge, Henry could see down chairs and instruments.

Undoubtedly, that was where Sammy and other workers had been responsible for creating the soundtrack of the series "Bendy the dancing demon." The projector went on alone, as if it had a life of its own while it was emitting one of Bendy's old episodes on the fabric screen.

Another cutout of Bendy was laying under the white cloth where at the same time one of the episodes of Bendy was reflected, this one however seemed different, even with his usual smile painted on cardboard seemed ... somewhat worried? Henry growled, by now everything seemed possible.

"Hey ... if you can hear me ... bah, it does not matter."

 

The tape recorder belonged to Norman Polk, the projectionist of the company, Henry reminded him as a rare and silent guy. Norman always seemed to be everywhere and know everything about everyone. Norman always had a squat and cautious look, always analysing everything ... In the recording he complained about a routine that strangely Sammy had and that the projectionist wanted to complain about that to Drew, but that Drew was also a strange man with his peculiarities ... Henry couldn’t agree more.

Henry retraced his steps, his breathing began to normalize and his steps were firmer and stronger as he explored the entire floor of the music department: several barrels of ink scattered as if nothing, another access flooded with ink, a musical organ of old aspect and covered with cobwebs that when playing its keys, a musical sound was emitted followed by a guttural moan, unlockable doors, a curious Bendy model sheet with expressions that were equal and a note ... Finally, the department of Sammy Lawrence came to his eyes while another cutout of Bendy was leaning against the wall. Now he just had to find a way to access there and ...

Suddenly, Henry heard a creak behind him and he turned on his heels with alarm. But he had taken too long to react.

Something crashed into the side of his head hard, making him see black as he flew and hit the ground, rolling several meters and covering himself with ink and dust, his hands thrown out to catch himself and ended up pulling the axe as he went down.  
Henry screamed for it, but when he hit the ground he saw something that froze his blood: the soft, ink-stained pants where he was lying now. Henry felt his heart pounding in his chest in the area of his tattoo while he was lying on the dusty floor with a throbbing pain in the side of his head where he had been hit and his vision darkened.

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and forcefully turned him on his back and saw the stranger who had hit him to meet an individual wearing a creepy mask of Bendy with spots and a dark hole where the mouth should be. Henry's eyes moistened with horror.

"Little lost sheep ... it's time to sleep ... Our Lord and saviour will be delighted with me, he will set me free." The crazy man said with a dark fascination as Henry's vision turned black.

The last thing he saw was the creepy masked man bending down to get him and Henry reaching out to grab his axe that lay a few feet away from him.

"No ... get away from me ... Be ... Bendy ... help ... me ..." he whispered with his eyes fixed on Bendy's cutout before his vision went dark and he felt the mysterious man's hands on him, now lifting him off the ground.

And then darkness.

 

Sammy Lawrence rose slowly from the ground, holding gently and observing more closely the new sheep that would serve as a sacrifice. He was really a piece that would fit as a sacrifice for his teacher, young and somehow untainted by the ink. He also seemed to possess a spirit of survival and fighter, his attempt to survive the herd of searchers made him admire him with some determination. "Bendy" would be really proud to offer that young man as a sacrifice and free him from that monstrous body of ink. Sammy left one of his fingers stroking his head and leaving a trail of ink where he played. There was no time, he had to focus now. He accommodated the human unconscious in his arms like a husband carrying his wife off the altar, staining his shirt and jeans with black ink. What did it matter? By the time "Bendy" took over the new sheep, the human would no longer need his clothes anymore. Soon there would be nothing left of him or his clothes. Sammy had to hurry before Henry woke up, he did not want to deal with an unnecessary struggle. With a few knots and a good rope and even with his survival instinct or his will to fight would not help him to escape. Humming one of the old songs he wrote in the past, he advanced slowly through the music department. He knew where he should lead the sacrifice for his Lord "Bendy", ignoring the cutout that after him had changed his appearance considerably, with a grimace of hatred while his eyes sprouted black ink.

"I told you to just entertain our guest1 Not that you tried to eat him!" Bendy was furious, VERY furious with the searchers who huddled at his feet trembling with fear. The poor creatures simply could not ignore their natural instincts. After all, Bendy created them to kill the humans.

That wasn’t what bothered him the most. Sammy had dared to hurt HIS Henry and take him with him, and if the dancing demon did not act soon to solve that, his creator would end up in the clutches of "Bendy". And "Bendy" was not a gentleman like him, and Bendy hated to see someone take their toys away from him.

He hadn’t been waiting for years for now that fake who had his face take HIS creator for himself. His fingers snapped, causing a set of surprise sounds from his searchers.

"Maybe if you don’t bother this, I'll give you a new opportunity." His voice sounded too cold and calm "after all, this is my show and I decide who stays and who ... well, 'is out of the spotlight."

The ink creatures just waited expectantly at the orders of the devil.

"We're going to hunting, it's been a long time since I had to get that shitty prophet out of my way ... And it's about time that my creator and I have a little talk."

But before that, maybe he should ask for help from a certain angel and an old friend who kept themselves hidden in the studio.

It was time for the creations to meet their creator.


	4. Face old faces of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bendy has managed to meet with Alice and Boris and confess to them what they wish to hear for a long time: Henry has returned to the studio. Meanwhile, Henry wakes up to discover that he is tied and trapped in the inky hands of a psychopath who is an old acquaintance of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally here is the next chapter! I wanted to apologize for the delay, but I've really had a lot of things to do and they've kept me busy writing the chapter before. Thank you very much for all the Kudos and comments! And for all the people who read the story! It really means a lot to me and they encourage me to continue the story!  
> Enjoy the chapter and I hope you like it and have a good day / afternoon or night!

If something displeased Alice more than the searchers, it was the surprises. There was a time when that word gave her a tingling and arousing sensation, like when someone was riding a roller coaster before the attraction reached the top and descended at such speed. At that moment he felt a mixture of sensations: dizziness, regret ... Fear.  
The feeling that had lately prevailed in the body of the angel, and that of his partner.  
Alice looked up from the letters she held between her fingers at that moment and glanced at the man in front of her.  
Tall, strong, with a pair of wolf ears protruding from the top of his head and skin so white it could be said to be porcelain. Boris the wolf.  
There was a time when this black-haired man had been a disdainful man, with a simple-minded attitude with which he did not seem to care about anything that happened around him. What was left of him now? Boris was now a shy man, afraid even of his own shadow or the creak of a wooden plank. The studio had been busy destroying and twisting Boris into something that was not, and the same could be said about her.  
Alice sighed, the real world was really cruel and ruthless. Sometimes her mind wandered over the idea of how the world could be outside those wooden walls and ink monsters. It would be nice? Wonderful? Their creator ... would he be out there? She frowned, earning a curious look from the man in front of her as he finished taking a bowl of bacon soup.  
Alice usually tried to avoid that kind of thinking. She was not like Bendy, she had long since lost the hope of knowing her creator. The angel felt resentment but did not hate, she was convinced that if her creator had had to leave he had had his reasons.  
Boris's ears snapped up, alerting the girl with the angelic face.  
That was bad news, when Boris caught something, they used to be searchers, or the diabolical prophet who dedicated himself to using humans as sacrifices ... Although Alice and Boris had tried to save those poor humans, they had all ended in the same way. Or that false angel ...  
Or Bendy.  
A soft knock followed by a humming at the door brought her back to reality, causing Boris and her to exchange glances. There was only someone who knew the location of their "Safehouse" and used that strange method of knocking on the door.  
"Hey fellas, are not you going to let an old friend in?"  
Alice felt a kind of dizziness in her stomach, a mixture of suspicion and nervousness to know that the dancing demon was only a few meters away from them.  
If the study had changed Boris and Alice, Bendy certainly had not been the exception to those changes.  
The demon had become more twisted, more sadistic and had left that mischievous side to become more morbid and mysterious.

"What do you want, Bendy?" It was Alice's curt response, earning a sad look from Boris as his ears folded in his head.  
Where were those times when the three of them were inseparable friends? They seemed distant and blurred, like the remnant of a dream.

"Tsk tsk tsk, as nice as ever, Sweet cheeks" a laugh on the other side of the door came to the ears of both "Is this Boris there with you? I need to make a proposal, so be nice and let your old pal pass. "

Neither Boris nor Alice moved from their respective places. Could they trust the human demon? He was no longer the same fella who ran around and spent innocent jokes that would end with a funny apology.  
A sigh and the sound of someone leaning against the door echoed through the room.

"Listen to me guys, because what I'm going to tell you this time is that it interests you both, I promise." A dramatic pause interjected for a few seconds "He has returned, our creator is here and if we don’t do something soon, we will not have access to the questions we want so much to solve. "

This time it wasn’t known who was faster because practically Alice and Boris threw themselves against the door at a diabolic speed. That for once if that was good news.

 

Again, different types of shadows and shades of darkness passed before Henry's tired eyes. This time they were not grey, but a warm tone like a sunset at the end of the night: shades of red mixed with yellowish or orange colours. At first they all mixed in a chaotic way, although as time went on they all began to merge to form a single dark colour of almost yellow orange tenuousness.

"Ugh ... my head ...."

Something inside him said that he shouldn’t open his eyes, that he should stay still and comfortable and let whatever happened to him not affect him and Henry almost obeyed that small part of him that insisted on staying in the idyllic land of rest without dreams or nightmares, surrounded by those orange tones that only transmitted calm ... But a part increasingly stronger and notorious insisted that he should stop foolishness and focus to escape from there as fast as his legs they will dictate It was his own instinct for conservation and survival. It was as if his conscience scolded him for being so careless and clumsy.

With a growl of frustration, the human's heavy eyelids opened slowly and a blurry vision filled with white and yellow spots as a hammering pain in his temple seemed to spread all over his head creating painful palpitations especially in the area where he had been hit. As his vision began to clear up, the artist gradually realized the kind of place where he was now. Numerous candles were scattered in a circle around him while others seemed to be randomly placed around the room while a crushing smell of burned wax and incense came to his nostrils almost creating him arcades of disgust. There were two exits from that infernal place, but one of them was blocked by a kind of gate or something that slid up while the door to his left was simply closed. The wall of the ceiling was several meters above the ground and had a horrible aspect of deterioration, as if at any moment it would give way and fall. The walls did not look better either, the wood had a horrible rotten appearance and it did not stop crunching, producing a knot in the human throat. He did not recognize this room, but you could not define that place as security.  
"Ugh ... my head hurts a lot ..." Too many pain points spread like a million needles digging into his head at the same time as Henry tried to sit up with his lethargic body, although he only managed to stay in an awkward position of sitting and feeling a burning sensation in the zone of his wrists.  
Looking down, he found the horrible image of his wrists tied together and being surrounded by a thick brown rope that coiled like a snake. The other end of the rope slid until it was twisted and tied around a thick, sturdy wooden pole in the middle of the room and wouldn’t let the human advance more than a couple of steps under those conditions.

Henry felt a huge knot of uneasiness and fear in his throat, whoever had trapped him and left him there had no intention of the young man running away. Had he been the man in Bendy's mask? What did that man want from him?  
But the artist had to correct himself, that man wasn’t a stranger to him, after analysing the voice of that guy who seemed to have been taken out of an occult group. Henry realized that he knew the owner of that voice. Sammy Lawrence.  
But what had happened to him? Why was the musician in the studio? Had Joey also mentioned him? But Henry felt that something was missing him, if so, why would Sammy leave him unconscious and tie him in a room that looked like something out of a horror movie? Henry wanted to convince himself that everything was a cruel joke, but he knew that this was impossible. As time passed and he became more aware of his surroundings he noticed that his white shirt had disappeared revealing a pale chest and the tattoo of Bendy's face on the place of his heart. his shoes and socks had also disappeared, the only thing left to him was his ink-stained jeans that clung uncomfortably to the legs of the young man. No doubt he had to have chosen something more comfortable to explore a study taken from hell but he had not had the idea of being caught at the mercy of strange types and human-eating monsters.

Definitely. this was really bad.

Henry provoked a firm tug of the ropes that held him back and instantly regretted it, as the thick cloth nailed mercilessly on the skin of his wrists, leaving them raw. He was terrified of being trapped and half naked in that place. A cold sweat ran down his back with the thought that Sammy had done ... things while he was unconscious.

"Okay ... control yourself, Henry." The artist said to himself while he was kicking and trying to stand up without irritating his wrists too much, which wasn’t a simple task "There is no one here, the only thing to do is break the strings and ..."

"Are you sure of that, little lost sheep?" He was interrupted by a voice with a ring of dark amusement that caused Henry to stagger and fall flat on the wooden floor causing a wave of pain from his wrists. It was a miracle that these were not bleeding yet. Looking up, Henry felt a flash of anguish when he met what in the past was a prestigious musician and was now a horrible creature.

That figure could be anything but human. His body had no trace of human hair or skin, instead there was a mass of dark ink that dripped with every movement he made when moving or talking. That being had neither shoes nor a shirt, only some dirty old overalls full of patches and stains of ink that somehow did not sink into the liquid, semi-solid body. The most disturbing was thee Bendy's mask that occupied the face of the ink being. The only visible thing was a row of pearly teeth through the hole where the mouth should be painted on the mask. That man, if he could call him that, was all ink.

And it wasn’t a reassuring or friendly smile, but one that promised dark intentions.

"Aww, did I scare the little sheep? Dearie me, I'm really sorry!" With a quick movement what was once Sammy Lawrence got up from the old chair leaving a trail of black ink on the floor "It is really convenient that you are here! It is nice to have visitors and more if is a young sheep like you! Is it like that?”

Henry felt a lump in his throat, and ignoring common sense he decided to confront his captor as best he could at that moment. A strange stranger from nightmares wasn’t going to intimidate him!

"What the hell do you want from me?! Who are you?! Release me right now or you'll regret it!" Henry screamed abruptly, his fear swallowed by dark anger as he struggled against his bonds with incredible strength. The strings were plunged mercilessly into his skin, cutting it off and producing an unpleasant burning sensation on his skin.

Maybe if the human had seen the knife that that being of ink had clutched in one of his hands, maybe he had restrained himself and acted like a normal victim at the mercy of his captor in the depths of a decaying study.  
But it was too late.

In a quick movement the sharp blade of the knife slid over the fragile neck of the young man, making enough pressure so that the metal blade would dig slightly into the skin but not with enough pressure to slip and cut the human skin. Forcing back the human until he was practically with his back resting on the wooden pole in an awkward position.  
Henry swallowed, trying not to breathe too much so that the weapon will not pierce his skin.

"Mph, tsk tsk tsk" the ink man huffed with an amused expression as he turned his head slightly, getting a part of his ink to fall to the floor creating a puddle of ink while his free hand rested against his extremely thin waist. "Small sheep shouldn’t use such vulgar language with their shepherd." He shook his head as if all that situation would be fun, it was obvious that he was studying the young human who was tied at that time "A boy like you shouldn’t have that kind of language. Although our saviour, heh, he does He likes to use that kind of language when he speaks. "

Henry cringed in his position, trying not to make any movement or release a scathing comment that will end up costing him his life. Pulling the strings wasn’t useful. He couldn’t break free but he could try to play everything to a desperate idea.  
"Just ... what do you want from me ... Sammy?" He whispered, staring at the man who in the past had been his partner at work.

The man then removed the knife from the neck of the human, relieved at this factor, moving more closely causing Henry to slip a little into his awkward prison of ropes when a hand came forward and touched his face with a sticky, unpleasant ink hand leaving a cold feeling that made Henry whimper as he pushed his face away from Sammy's reach.

"Heh ... a very silly question, but easy to answer, little lost sheep, I want to be free again ... free from this prison of ink in which has become my body, and for that, I must please the ink demon that governs this place, he punished me for failing him, catching me in this disgusting body of ink ... because I failed in the only task that he asked me ... "The old musician turned his head slightly, with a cruel smile "You know my name, little lost sheep, how can that be? ... Did you and I know each other from the past?"

The human looked away, uncomfortable with that question. He knew the Sammy of the past who had been an honourable though stressful musician who paid for his frustrations with other workers. the Sammy of now ... it wasn’t even a shadow nor a ghost of his past being. It was dark, cruel, psychopathic in appearance ... Nothing to trust.

Henry eyed him with something like a despair as he tried to stay away from the dripping hand of that man of ink. In the novels or books that he had read that was the moment where the protagonist and the bad guy in that story had a deadly encounter and recognized that they knew each other from the past. Those situations never ended well for the protagonist. "Maybe...?" he whispered with caution "It sounds familiar ... the name of Henry to you?"

 

"It sounds familiar ... the name of Henry to you?"  
Boris's ears rose with energy as he heard that coming from a voice that vaguely became familiar, as if he had heard it in the past. Bendy didn’t lie, their creator had really come back. Boris didn’t stop wondering why his return now, but it wasn’t something that will matter to him now. He was so eager to see the face of his creator, hug him, protect him ... it was weird. Should not it be the other way around? That is, shouldn’t the creators be the ones who protect their creations? But thinking about Joey Drew, that rule didn’t apply to him.

Joey Drew ... How much damage had that man caused?

A hiss took him out of his thoughts as he looked at his personal companions for those moments. Searchers that Bendy had created. Boris didn’t like those creatures and considered them abominations too dangerous but Bendy had insisted that he would be more relaxed if Boris took a few with him in case things went wrong.

That would twist from one moment to another, the human wolf was aware of it. It bothered him that he had left Alice alone with the human demon but there was no other choice. If the three wanted to save their creator, the three had to cooperate with the plan whether they liked it or not.

With a wave of his hand, Boris ordered the searchers to come forward and give Sammy a courtesy call. Only he expected his creator to be fast enough to avoid them and flee.

The road was ready, the plan was underway, there was only one human running to it.

 

Henry cringed against the wooden post while Lawrence laughed like a deranged man, holding the knife in one hand while a row of white teeth peered through the hole in the mask.

"Henry? Heh, I knew you were too familiar ... Hehehe ... how many years have passed? You left one day with your tail between your legs and you never came back, that really pissed off old Drew." Sammy composed himself, looking at him with more seriousness "When I saw that mark on your chest I decided not to kill you yet because I wanted to hear an explanation, I thought that my Lord had marked you or you were a new follower of him but nothing else knowing your name I knew, everything makes sense now He has been waiting all these years ... for you. "

A cold sweat ran down Henry's spine as his eyes kept their eyes on Lawrence. Being more and more time with him was more dangerous every second that passed and every cell of the human shouted that he should run and run away from him.  
As if he had that option at that moment.

"About ... who are you talking Sammy?"

Sammy stood on all his height, extending his arms toward the sky as if in a kind of prayer.  
"From whom? I'm talking about him, the ink demon, our saviour from the dark abyss ..." "Bendy" "Strangely he made a remark on" Bendy "when he mentioned him. "He will set us free, he said he was waiting for the final sacrifice to come, the last piece that was missing in this hell so that everything would start to work, the human with the mark on his chest ... You."  
Sammy made a move to try to touch the tattoo on the artist's chest, but he backed away with a warning hiss.

Bendy wasn’t real! It was just a character he had created years ago! Fiction! That Sammy said all those things only showed how deteriorated his mind was after so many years of being excluded from the real world and living there as Henry suspected he had done .... Sammy had always been a weird guy .... But not until that extreme.

"Bendy isn’t real, your lunatic! It's a cartoon’s character!" Henry yelled, tugging at his bonds to free himself "I don’t know what the fuck you intend or what your intentions are with me but none of this will take you anywhere! Untie me and I'll do as if none of this had happened, I'll go home and forget all of this. I promise!"

But the only thing he got was Sammy's dark laugh, as if everything was a game.  
"Aw, so you're not a believer? It doesn’t matter, he'll make you believe, he already did it to many others and you ... heh, you're probably the only exception he won’t kill as long as you obey his orders ... "Sammy stepped back a little" even if you are a sacrifice, he gave me orders not to kill you, our Lord wants to keep you alive for some reason that I wouldn’t dare to question, I wonder if he would be offended if I punished you for your lack of faith...”

It was as if Henry's mouth would suddenly dry up before the dark double meaning implied by what Sammy had just said.  
He ... he would not dare to do 'that' ... right? Henry watched him out of the corner of his eye, but it was impossible to analyse the ink man because of the mask that covered his face and the coincidence with which he moved around the room.  
The young man would have liked to respond if it were not for the strange sound that suddenly began to be heard from the upper floor, causing both Sammy and him to raise their heads at the same time.  
They were not steps; it was more as if something ... was crawling up the top floor.

Sammy applauded with his hands. Suddenly he seemed very excited with the whole situation.  
"Can you hear him? He's crawling! Crawling on us!" Forgetting all the previous issue, the musician went to the door that was on the left "I must tell you that our special 'sacrifice' is waiting for him here ... be a good boy while I escort our Lord here."

"Wait!"

But it was too late, Sammy had already left and closed the door behind him, leaving a frightened ex-worker tied up and caught waiting for a horrible end at the hands of a demon.

Images of horrible demons filled the mind of the human: demons with sharp claws and serrated teeth, spits fires and steals souls, filthy creatures with bad intentions, experts in lies and convert the wishes of innocent people into what they hate the most. In addition to devoting themselves to corrupting innocent humans ...  
Henry let out a scream of frustration. All this really surpassed him: demons, puddles of ink that came alive, an acquaintance of the past who now seemed to be a leading monster of a cult ... without forgetting the mysterious man who chased him on the top floor. It was a cruel irony, he had never believed in such things and it was as if everything had jumped into his face.

He shook his head. It wasn’t time to get distracted! If Sammy was telling the truth, he would bring someone or something much worse than him to take care of the artist. He looked at the tattoo on his chest and growled. It was a simple tattoo, an ink drawing on his skin, not a birthmark or something that made him 'worthy of being a sacrifice'.

Henry tugged on the rope again as more thoughts gathered in his mind. Sammy had mentioned "Bendy" as if he ... was a real person. Could it be true? The cartoonist had always dreamed of having his creations with him in the real world, having fun with them and teaching them how the world worked outside the pages and ink strokes. But that was also crazy, thoughts of a child who wants his toys or imaginary friends to be real. Something magical and at the same time absurd ... But really impossible?

*hiss! *

A wild, primitive growl made Henry turn on his heels. Damn, not again.  
Out of nowhere, creatures similar to the ones that had tried to eat him in the studio had emerged. They were a small group, about four or five, but their sharp teeth and claws were the only thing that worried the human. Now he was bound and unarmed, defenceless against those beasts dripping with black liquid that had the sole purpose of devouring humans.

Or so Henry thought.

He held his breath and stayed as still as possible, some animals weren’t able to detect their prey unless they moved or caused sounds. Maybe that could work with them ... but after a few seconds he realized that it won’t work. One of them practically crawled to his feet, letting out horrible moans leaving behind a trail of ink.

Henry debated internally whether he should fight or let himself be devoured. That is, in the miraculous case that he survived, Sammy would come back to him with that strange demon or whatever ... But something was screaming at him that he couldn’t give up now, that he had to think about Linda and her children. They needed him. And Henry needed them.

"Come and think about eating me, and I swear I'll turn you into a bubbling puddle of ink." Henry suddenly felt very brave and sure of himself, if he could with a lot of challenges, one more wouldn’t end with him.

But the creature made no threat to even attack him, turn it's 'head' as if that were analysing the words of the human, leaving the artist perplexed. After a few seconds the creature opened its jaws and made a powerful jump to close its jaws on ... the rope that connected to the wooden pole. As soon as it closed its mouth, its teeth sawed the thick rope as if nothing while the young man backed a couple of steps back.

The creature had ... released him on purpose? He didn’t want to lower his guard, maybe they liked it better when their prey fought for their lives, to hear their cries when they died ... But to him it seemed that he was wrong. His eyes locked on the other ink beings. Some of them had huddled around the door blocked by the gate that had to slide up and shared a series of grunts between them. Were they communicating? Henry looked at the creature that had release him, it seemed to look at him as if it expected something, a movement that man should perform.

Unconsciously, Henry stretched out his arms before him with his bound wrists exposed outward.  
"Could you ... untie me?" He felt a bit idiotic for making that request, but those creatures seemed to possess a degree of intelligence that the previous ones lacked. The inking didn’t respond, but it slid silently until it was practically in front of him, opening its jaws in an inordinate way.

Henry was forced to look away, wishing he was not mistaken in having left that being so close to him, lowering his guard. This being could rip his hands, tear them off ... A cold sensation reached his skin when his teeth brushed his skin significantly and then pulled back with a sharp sound. His wrists were free.

Henry observed the deep and horrible red marks that slipped from the wrists that were raw and gave a burning sensation to have been the rope touching the skin without a foot. He would have no choice but to bite his tongue and not protest while something tugged at the bottom of his jeans insistently. Looking down, the artist found himself with the vision of another smaller ink being that offered him, in his hands of ink, the axe that had previously been resting on another wooden post. It looked older and more decadent than the previous one he had used on his trip to the music department, but it could serve him for the moment.

"Thank you ..." mumbled the confused human, looking at the two inked beings "the two of you, I really appreciate your help."

The creatures simply nodded and joined their other companions who had dug their claws into the railing that was sliding upwards, trying to unlock it. Henry watched them curiously, ignoring the tug he felt in his wrists as he moved them or made any movement.

The creatures soon unlocked the road, this extended to a dark and narrow corridor full of wooden boards and barrels scattered throughout the area. Now he understood why the axe could be useful at that moment. Ink fell through the ceiling and in the distance he could see a sign on a door ... Was it an exit? Henry felt his heart beating, hopeful. His nightmare could be about to end while one of the searchers went through the corridor, looking to the human like if it wanted that Henry followed it.

The door on the left opened with a kick, revealing a confused Sammy Lawrence holding another axe in his hands.

"I seemed to hear noises and ..." a cruel smile settled on his face "you're trying to escape, little sheep, it's too late, you cannot escape from here ..."

The creatures of ink hissed furiously and crouched in front of the human in a protective and defiant attitude, showing their teeth and extending their sharp claws towards the preacher, warning him that if he dared to make a move this could be the last.

Henry took this as an opportunity, perhaps the only one left to him, and slithered down the dark corridor ignoring Sammy's screams and the hisses of the ink creatures. That was not going to end well, the only purpose of the human was to follow the ink creature that would possibly take him to a safe place.  
Although thinking about it well. Was there a safe place in the infernal study?

 

"You know, Sammy, you made a lot of mistakes, but this has undoubtedly been the worst of all." A voice of hatred echoed through the room as a figure appeared through the door frame through which Sammy had previously entered.

He was a man shorter than the preacher, but no less intimidating.  
The authentic Bendy the dancing demon.

Sammy felt a lump in his throat, that was the enemy of his Lord, or as he said, the bad copy of him. So similar and at the same time so different. But both dangerous. Lawrence had always tried to kill the enemy of his Lord, but this time the situation was not in his favour, the searchers were cornering him and Bendy did not seem at all happy with him. He looked really furious despite appearing to be in a casual way.

"The other times I felt ... pity, and that's why I left you alive, you've always been a nuisance to my plans, but today that's over." Bendy stood behind the searchers, sharp teeth replaced his usual smile "You want to know why?"

But Sammy didn’t need to hear the answer.

"It's for him ... Henry." Sammy responded with hatred to the elegant black-haired man "no matter what you do, he doesn’t belong to you, my Lord already took him took him in the past, and he will recover what is his now."

Without another word, Bendy snapped his fingers and turned into the dark corridor as the searchers roared and pounced on the dark preacher. Sammy had closed his destiny with those words.

 

"Hey ... is the exit too far?"

And although deep in the heart he expected that the creature would make any gesture that it had understood him or give him a clue as to where the closest exit was, but the creature only looked at him out of the corner of its eye for a few moments to let out a snort and continue guiding the artist through the semidarkness of the place.

Henry snorted and hurried to go after the creature, for some time the axe had ended giving way to how old it was to be hit against the wood, splitting into a thousand pieces and being useless. Henry had intended to take a wooden board with him that he could use as a weapon to defend himself. But all the wooden boards were splintered or half powered, with which he would only get cut or get a severe infection. Not the best thing in the place, Henry didn’t remember that there was a nursing room in the studio or something of that style.

The creature stopped and emitted a hiss that took the young man from his thoughts. The road split in two: On the left there was a small corridor that was covered with a couple of barrels but he could evade them by jumping or climbing on them, the other road continued straight ahead and where could a sign with the word 'exit 'written on the surface of this. Henry wanted to continue forward, feeling a spark of hope inside him until something stopped him. The creature had perched on his left leg decisively, stopping him in place and pointing with one of his inked claws to the corridor on the left.

"Do you want me to go there?" Henry frowned with indecision, gazing dubiously from one side to the other "but the exit is there ..."

But if he meditated it seriously. The exit was never a good sign: the first time he had ended up falling through a trap door located a few steps from the door, and the second time he had ended up unconscious and at the mercy of a psychopath who had wanted to give him as a sacrifice to a demon...  
Really the exits could mean anything but good things. With a grunt of defeat, he turned to the left.  
"Okay, we'll do it your way, I'll go to the left."

Crossing the barrels and other objects considered garbage, Henry managed to cross that obstacle with amazing ease, the corridor turned to the right, finding an open door that opened the door to a new place that would hopefully distance Henry from danger. The searcher was following him closely in silence and keeping its distance with him. It was weird, it was like having a dog that followed him around with the difference that this creature could kill and eat him at any time.

And sadly, the best company that he had managed to obtain until that moment.  
Upon entering the new room his companion went to the other side, surprising Henry.  
"What are you doing? You weren’t supposed to ... I don’t know ... to lead me to a safe place or something?"  
The inked creature only released a kind of grunt and retraced his steps, leaving the artist stunned as the door closed and locked with a wooden board.  
He felt his pulse speed up. What if it had all been a cruel trap? He looked to one side and another hoping that numerous searchers would jump and devour him there while he was still alive, nothing happened.

The room only had numerous shelves full of Bendy stuffed toys that seemed to look at him with their black eyes, studying all his movements. With the strangeness of it all, Henry wouldn’t be surprised if out of nowhere they started walking and talking on their own as living people. No, it's better not to think that.  
Checking the place, there was nothing with which he could defend himself, better to continue.  
The next area was not cram thing either, only empty and ramshackle shelves and barrels pulled all over the floor while a layer of dust seemed to cover them and give the feeling that nobody had travelled there in a long time. There was another closed door, the word 'Lift' written next to it and a corridor that went to the left. Nothing of what...

 

A metallic tinkle and seconds later a can of bacon soup with the Bendy’s logo just rolled to the feet of the human.  
Henry trembled with fear, he was not alone there, there were no creatures of ink to protect him or a weapon with which to defend himself. And if it was someone like Sammy? Or worse. What if it was the guy on the main floor of the building? Fighting, he managed to remain calm.

"Hello? Someone there?" Henry's voice was more nervous and scared than he intended "I know you're in here. Come out and show yourself.”

Nothing happened for a couple of seconds. Then came the sounds of steps. And then he arrived.  
A tall, thin man with night-black hair and porcelain-white skin approached him like nothing. His black eyes reflected many emotions: surprise, bewilderment, contained emotion, joy. He was a really tall guy, wearing a black sweater that rolled up on his elbows, Numerous black freckles spread across his pale cheeks. The most curious thing was a wolf’s tail that fluttered behind him with joy and powerful wolf’s ears that rested on the top of his head. Henry looked at him with a big lump in his throat.  
That ... couldn’t be real. The same guy who had been on the operating table on the top floor ... that one was dead. But here ... Here was that dark-haired man before him as if nothing. Same hair, same eyes, same clothes ... The design he had created for...

"B .... Boris?" his hand stretched forward slowly "are you really here?"

The man didn’t respond, he dedicated himself to studying the surprised human for a few seconds, finally wrapping him in his long arms while a huge smile was deposited on his face.

Finally, the creator had returned home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in the previous chapter I said that searchers are creatures that only dedicate themselves to hunting and devouring humans and really they are. Why in this chapter are they different? Because Bendy ordered them not to dare harm his human, and even though their instincts are strong, the fear of provoking Bendy's anger is even greater.


	5. No matter the way, they are all sinners.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the mess, Boris is trying to take Henry carefully to the only shelter where the human can be safely known as "The Safehouse". Meanwhile, Alice is discovering the true dark side of Bendy after he tells her some truths that are not too pleasant for the fallen angel after observing how the ink demon let Sammy Lawrence die in such a cruel way .. Now, the human must venture and talk face to face with his creations, although two of them already have plans for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I wrote chapter five! I would like to apologize for all the delay that this part has had, I had some problems writing this chapter but finally I found the inspiration to continue it. Thank you very much for all the kudos and all the people who have left me comments and have continued reading the story. Thanks for your patience!  
> Enjoy the chapter and I hope you like it and have a good day / afternoon or night!

Boris's pov  
Boris had always been curious about all human’s habits: they needed to feed every day or they would die of hunger, they needed sleep or extreme fatigue could seriously affect their physical and emotional development, they should be careful because accidents or falls could cause permanent injuries in their bodies or even break their weak bones, or catch strange diseases that could seriously damage them ... or cause them to die. The black-haired man felt a knot in his stomach, he would never have to worry about that, he was designed to endure for a long time without eating, drinking or resting, his skin and bones were also designed to regenerate quickly after an accident or serious injury or a bad fall. And as Joey had explained to them, being partially immortal Toons, nothing like diseases could kill them. But that doesn’t mean they cannot be killed by someone.

Boris felt a certain bitterness at the thought of that. Being a toon could mean seeing all the humans that he cared about growing up, going through each stage of his life and finally dying. He hated to think that his creator could follow the same fate as other humans.

"With enough faith, you can even mock death ..."

His ears folded back. Joey Drew ... what a crazy human. If he could be considered human after all the things he had done to others ... Or even himself.

A deep sigh brought the black-haired man out of his thoughts as his black eyes focused on the human named Henry, the creator of all of them. He was walking behind him with one hand resting on the wall that helped him maintain his balance while the other hand clung to his shirt while his chest rose up and down at a speed so high that for the human wolf it was alarming while his ears were able to hear the accelerated beats. It was as if the human's heart was going to burst at any moment.

Boris turned to him, extending a gloved hand toward him. He wanted to help his creator, the safehouse was not far away, but still ... But the look of distrust and the soft growl that Henry let out made it clear to him that the former worker didn’t trust him enough and didn’t want his help. At least not yet.

"Don’t give me that look, Boris ... I can move alone and on my own" Henry replied with a bit of mordacity, biting his lower lip as he took another step and felt as if hundreds of needles were stuck in the soles of his feet. His legs trembled more and more and it was a matter of time that they gave way to all the tiredness and tension accumulated in the last hours. But Henry's stubbornness was more persistent than his fatigue.

The cartoon man bit his lower lip with indecision at Henry's words. If it had been for him, he would have carried Henry on his back or on his shoulders and they would have already reached the Safehouse where they would have a good bowl of bacon soup and they would 'talk'. Well, Henry would speak and Boris would listen and try to answer his questions. Sometimes it was annoying that he was the only one of them who had never had a voice or an actor who doubled the voice of his character.  
Without hesitation, the tall human with dark hair descended the pace of walking enough for the exhausted creator to reach him and both walked together, side by side.

Henry looked at him out of the corner of his eye for several seconds, but his eyes went straight ahead and Boris knew that although he still didn’t trust him, at least the former worker was grateful that they could both walk more slowly and silently, although that silence It was broken later by the human himself.  
"You ... You're not very talkative ... Right?"

Boris was surprised by the question, but his only response was to shrug and keep walking, rather walking slowly, between the inked wooden corridors that were full of posters that had spent better times. Henry coughs again, this time his coughing attack was so strong that both were forced to stop while Henry practically slid against the wall with one hand on his chest, hitting gently but steady while his cheeks turned red.  
That worried the wolf of the cartoons. What if Henry had been sick? What if he had been intoxicated with ink? He had already seen that many times, and unfortunately all had ended in the same way .... In addition, the infirmary wasn’t near and probably would continue to be flooded, so all the medical supplies would have been spoiled by the ink, although several medical kits scattered throughout different areas of the study. That could help them if Henry really wasn’t seriously ill. His black eyes were fixed on the figure of the human, studying him carefully: Until that moment He hadn’t noticed the absence of the shirt or shoes of the other human, but that wasn’t so alarming at that moment.

The other human's wrists were irritated and raw, a large red circle surrounded them. And in addition, numerous scratch marks, bites and ink spread throughout the torso of this ...

And that strange tattoo with the face of Bendy on the human's chest. His ears were folded back in his head with confusion, Bendy had asked Alice and him to help find the human and save him to settle pending accounts ... But why Henry had that mark?

Unconsciously his right hand slowly exited towards the other's mark, but before he could touch it Henry's hand closed on his wrist. Not too strong to hurt but the message was clear: He didn’t want Boris to touch his tattoo.

"No ... Don’t touch that, Boris." Unconsciously, the human was leaning little by little on the cartoon character's shoulder, using him to stabilize and stand while his legs now trembled uncontrollably, threatening to give in at any moment.

The wolf's ears were folded on both sides of his head, confused by that reaction of his creator although he nodded and slowly removed his hand with careful of not to cause the former worker of the place to fall to the ground.

Instead of trying to calm Henry, Boris decided that it was time to stop those nonsenses. The more time they were standing, the more likely that 'He' could find them. And that was not good for any of them. Just thinking about him, made Boris's guts writhe uncomfortably while a bitter sensation nested in his throat that suddenly seemed as dry as sandpaper. That man who had modified himself to be like them and instead had become something that should not exist: an abomination that was neither human nor toon, a monster that had a face similar to that of the devil of ink without becoming him. An incomplete monster that had decided to name itself "Bendy" and killed for pleasure anything that would cross his path.

In that sense, "Bendy" and the fake Alice Angel were the same. A couple of monsters that should never have come to life and that posed a danger even to themselves.

Sometimes the possibility that those two had some resemblance to Alice and Bendy ... put Boris on the nerves. It is true that all of them had changed and that they were no longer the sympathetic characters in a series of black and white cartoons ... But they were not bloodthirsty creatures either. At least, he and Alice were not ... The dancing demon could be considered a vengeful and treacherous creature but the human wolf knew that when his friend acted in a way it was for some reason that was unknown to them ... At least That was what he wanted to believe...

Ignoring the impotent protests of the human who was still trapped in his arms and that every second that passed became weaker, Boris took a good breath of air while a part of him was still trapped in his tangled occurrences of his mind while his body was directed in rapid steps without pause into the darkness of the old and broken wooden passageways that were barely illuminated by the lights that came from white wax candles that miraculously had not yet melted. The darkness was one of the worst fears of the tall black-haired human, but he was even more afraid of having a face-to-face encounter with "Bendy."

'I do it for Bendy ... I do it for Alice, I do it for Henry ... and I do it for me, Be brave Boris ...' Without further hesitation, Boris went into the darkness that would take him to the safehouse where both would be safe and he could treat Henry's wounds until Bendy and Alice returned.

 

Bendy's pov  
He had always imagined that the death of that self-proclaimed prophet of the false ink demon would be like a sweet sight to himself, the power to shut his mouth and see the fear in the ink being when he realized that Bendy was the true owner of the ink. And that he could kill him without even moving a muscle ... But none of that had filled the heart of the demon toon, instead there was only a cold feeling of uneasiness and discomfort.

And anger for the untimely words of Lawrence: "My Lord already took him in the past, and he will recover what is his now."

A snarl escaped from Bendy's pale lips. He wasn’t an idiot and he knew what Joey had done to Henry ... His Henry. Just thinking that the dirty hands of that damned human had dared to damage the precious body of its creator made his demon’s blood boil with hatred. And with jealousy.

Only he had the right to scare his creator and catch him in an incessant game that would break his mind and corrupt him, nobody else. Not even Boris and Alice knew his curious 'attraction' or his true intentions with the intruder of the study and for the moment it was better that the angel and the wolf were unaware of that factors.

The demons were known to be sadistic creatures, cruel beings ... and above all selfish with their belongings. And Bendy was no exception even if he had been drawn to be a caricature.

Oh, the humans were so innocent. Even if his creator’s intentions was to create a fun devil to entertain the children and the audience, a demon never left his true nature outside of him, he just learned to smile and handle the situation in his favour. Demons were also creatures who knew how to pretend and lie to bring everything to their side.

The searchers swirled around him as Sammy's remains scattered like a puddle of black ink over the studio, a worthless one that only lived for a few moments. A life that had been taken away many, many years before. A cruel smile with sharp teeth appeared on the demon's pearly face.

In that way, he had fulfilled Sammy Lawrence's wish.

"You're already free, are not you happy, Lawrence?" Bendy's foot crushed the filthy mask that pretended to be his face, breaking it into a thousand pieces in the process without feeling any remorse. For what? Nobody needed that damn mask anymore. He was so focused on mocking Sammy that he didn’t notice the presence of the angel who watched everything with a mixture of horror and incredulity.

 

Alice's pov  
Alice had witnessed the whole bloody scene in which the dark-haired man had let his vile ink servants finish off the body of the prophet until nothing was recognizable. She knew that Bendy could be a little ... Really, she had to accept reality.

Bendy was a creature almost as cruel as those that Boris and she fled and fought every day to survive. For the first time, she wondered if it would have been a good idea to ally herself with him. On the other hand, ... The idea of knowing the creator of them and finding answers outweighed the little voice of survival that shouted at her that it would be logical to stay away from what in the past was a great friend of her.

There was nothing left of that Bendy, now there was only what the ink machine and the humans had made of him: a vile and manipulative creature like them.

"You know, it's very rude to approach someone from behind and spy on him, miss without wings."

Bendy's mocking voice and a soft but accurate tap on her forehead drew Alice out of her thoughts as the ink demon leaned toward her with a warning look in her eyes that made the angel feel uneasy.

A gloved hand grabbed the chin of the black-haired woman while the man's smile in front of her turned into something more serious.

"It would be a big problem if Boris will find out what happened to that stupid Lawrence, I trust you to be a good friend and be discreet." Bendy's voice sounded very casual as every time he spoke in the series, but a dark threat was hidden among those words "What do you say Alice? Can you keep this little secret for your old pal? After all, us, the demons must support each other, don’t you think? "

Alice's shoulders tensed at that mention as she stepped away from him.

"I am not a demon; I am ..."

But before she could continue, Bendy's hand closed over her mouth to silence her with a grimace so serious and dark that it did not seem possible to be his.

"Don’t you dare to finish the sentence, Alice, you are a fallen angel and not a true angel." He leaned closer to her, his nose almost touching hers as his cold breath caressed the cheeks of the scrawny silhouette that stood before him "Here we are all sinners, even Boris, and by definition, a fallen angel is just like a demon, so you should stop deceiving yourself, there is no god that will save you from this destiny and the sooner you accept it, the sooner you will be able to move forward since after all ... "

Bendy's teeth changed to look as sharp as daggers as a reddish glow appeared in the depths of his black eyes, paralyzing Alice in place.

"Being on the dark side has its advantages .... You should try it and join me instead of running away from your true nature."

As quickly as everything happened, the demon pulled away from her and smiled at her casually as if nothing had happened. His sharp teeth and the reddish gleam in his eyes had disappeared while a soft laugh escaped his lips as he tried to adjust and fix his white bow tie knotted around his neck calmly while Alice tried to assimilate everything he had seen.

Had it all been real? Or a whole product of your imagination?

"Come on Dear" Bendy's hand gently grasped the fallen angel's wrist, tugging her toward the hallway where Henry had previously fled "No more delay, it's time to meet with Boris and have a few words with Henry. Are you excited? I certainly am. "

Alice just nodded while she let herself be dragged by Bendy. Her mind screamed and urged her to run, her veins were driven by ink and adrenaline while her heart beat as fast as the pipes that propelled the black liquid that kept the ink machine running. If She wanted to keep Boris safe from that strange behaviour of the man next to her, Alice would play his game and she would pretend that she didn’t know what had happened to Sammy and the conversation of demons that both had.

She was still an angel regardless of what the demon that was next to her said. And she would protect Boris from him. And if necessary, she would also protect Henry from Bendy's influence if things went wrong.

After all, the human and creator of them was the key that could unlock the exit and get them out of there. He could free them.

He will set them free. Alice would take care of it.

 

Henry’s pov  
Henry's eyes hurt as he watched the stage where he was. A tunnel or something similar to a tide as black as ink swirled around him without touching his skin while a set of voices seemed to come from all sides to pierce the human's ears. Everything was indecipherable.

But they were well-known voices even though his mind was not able to recognize the owners of it. Instead, his mind clung to the latest memories and events that had been recorded in the depths of his being: the arrival at the studio, the not very good experiences with the cut outs of Bendy, the failed attempt to escape, the disappearance of his belongings ... The encounter with Sammy.  
If Henry agreed with anything, it was that the only good thing he had gotten out of all that experience was the meeting with Boris.

"Boris ..."

Different kinds of shadows of light and darkness passed in front of the human's eyes as he approached the great yellow and orange sphere that was in the middle of that chaotic place. With each step he took, a mouthful of warm temperature seemed to shake him to encourage him to keep moving forward. It was time to move on and leave the ink pit full of voices.

It was time to wake up.

The sound of a moving fan filled the entire room with the sound made by the metal blades of the object spinning in the air and the distant sound of what seemed to be a duo of voices that Henry could not identify if they seemed to be friendly or welcome. since they were too distant to analyse them. A faint light from a small object on the floor was the only thing that illuminated the small room and the comfortable bed in which he had been resting for an indeterminate time.  
"Ugh ... How did I get here?" Gently, Henry leaned on the mattress until he was in a sitting position. It was a relief to wake up in a normal place, without pentagrams or with someone willing to give you as a sacrifice to a demon. For a few moments, Henry's eyes flickered to adapt to the lighting of the place, looking at the object that emitted the light and did not seem to have a button to turn it on or off. With care and extreme slowness, the human was able to get up and stay in place with a sensation of dizziness in the body. Without a doubt, he needed to eat something and soon. Unlike the other times, Henry did not feel as much pain as those times when he woke up, at that time he could feel some bandages or fabrics that were firmly covering some parts of his body to prevent infection or bleeding, especially in the chest’s area. If Boris had been the one who had taken the trouble to heal and bandage him, Henry would find a way to compensate the black-haired man.

The artist studied the entire room with surprise, this one was really small with barely room for a bed and a hammock that hung from the ceiling and swayed slowly in its place. Turning his head, he could find an old poster of one of the old episodes of the human wolf that had had better times. His eyes continued to explore everything in his path: a fun wall clock with the shape of Bendy that moved his arms and legs while it sounded, a large trunk located under the hammock and that seemed heavy looking, not forgetting a shelf full of different items.  
Without giving much more importance, Henry went to the door that was closed and isolated from the outside world. He stopped nervously.

Voices could be heard through the door and that could only mean that ... Or Boris had lied to him and if he could talk.  
Or that there was someone else there. Where was Boris? It was clear that this place belonged to the toon that he had created in the past ... But that could mean that maybe he did not live alone there and that seemed logical. Maybe there were more survivors there or ... Henry swallowed at the possibility that seemed to expand quickly in his mind, that another of the toons he created was there too.

There was only one way to discover it.

Before he could change his mind or fall back, his fingers closed over the round doorknob and the door opened into a narrow corridor with a plank floor of wood and a suspicious-looking ceiling from which dripped large drops. of inks that formed black puddles on the floor. A smile formed on the cartoonist's lips when at the end of the corridor he saw a kind of grid or metal fence from which hung a pair of overalls and a black sweater similar to the ones that the tall human wolf wore before and white clacks with drawings of hearts that almost made Henry burst into laughter if not for holding back a hand against his mouth. He did not want to give signs that he had awakened the owners of those voices that seemed somewhat tense. Centuries like a ghost, Henry tiptoed down the corridor, careful not to make any noise or step on any board that might creak under his weight.

Better be cautious and be prepared for action if necessary.

Out of the corner of his eye the young man thought he saw what appeared to be a bathroom that somehow had part of the floor flooded with ink. If he was not in a hurry to hear the conversation and discover who was in that place, maybe Henry would have stopped to explore it. His feet slid across the floor as he pressed his back against the wall as the voices became louder on the other side.

"I only say that I would like to go and check him! Nothing else!" The first voice had a childish touch but it certainly belonged to a man similar to Henry’s own age.

"Don’t even think about it, Boris has already taken care of his injuries and thinks it's better to let him rest, do not move from your chair." That voice had a more mature and feminine touch, no doubt its owner was a woman.

Carefully, Henry poked his head around the corner of the wall to observe that he could find himself on the other side. It seemed to be a fairly spacious room with a large round wooden table and a curious candle in the centre of it that seemed to illuminate the place. His eyes fixed on the three people in that room: One of them was Boris, who was sitting among the other residents and was entertained with a wooden spoon that he dipped from time to time in a large bowl containing a brownish liquid. Not very good looking. Henry supposed it must be Bacon soup or something. The woman was undoubtedly the definition of beauty, she had skin as clear as the moon and straight hair and black as night, a good combination with the dress of the same colour she wore, the most curious was those two white cords that they protruded a little on each side of his head and that white halo that floated on it ...

No doubt she was Alice Angel.

If she was there ... then the other man who was in the room could not be other than ...

Henry observed the last man who was sitting at the table and turning his back on him at that moment. He was a delayed man, about Henry's height, maybe a little taller than the artist, dressed in an elegant black suit, white gloves, and black shoes. His hair was combed in a way reminiscent of two demon horns while his voice did nothing but demonstrate the frustration he must have felt for something unknown to Henry.  
It was his greatest creation, Bendy the dancing demon.

 

1194/5000  
Without thinking of his actions, the human let out a great breath of air in surprise at the same time that his foot had the bad luck to lean on one of the boards that produced noise. His heart increased the pace like crazy while the three toons turned their heads, surprised but not annoyed by the interruption of their discussion.

Henry's eyes met Bendy's black eyes, which seemed to light up with a strange glow as a not very reassuring smile formed on the lips of the last while he studied the figure of the human fragile who felt suddenly uncomfortable for being the centre of attention at that moment, wishing he had stayed in bed instead of getting up.  
With leaps and bounds as Henry concentrated on retreating, the artist suddenly found himself cornered between the wall and the black-haired man with the big white smile who had grabbed his right hand, as if to keep him from running away.

"Welcome home, creator." With those words, Bendy placed a soft kiss on the back of the human's palm.

It was time to settle some issues between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dark side of Bendy starts to come out! For despite being a toon, he is still a demon and as such he has some characteristics of them. Poor Henry will have to learn to deal with him and the toons' challenge if they all want to get out of there alive.
> 
> I know that this chapter is shorter than the previous ones and that the end is a bit fast, but I want to say that the end 'could' be subject to changes in the future, I don't assure it yet but there are things that I would like to change and explain before finish this chapter.  
> Also, I'm rethinking to rewrite this story and include all the updates that were recently included in the chapters after the arrival of chapter 4 in the game, of course, the story would be written in a separate story and this one would continue to be like this, still It is not a final decision yet and I would like to know your opinion. Thanks for reading it.


End file.
